Ohana Means Family
by Rainsaber
Summary: Tony gets knocked up. Loki disappears. Bruce is stumped. Thor grows a brain. Fury's a paranoid maniac. Odin makes Fury look like a saint. And Stark Tower needs an upgrade because between the Avengers and Tony's weird new family they're running out of rooms. Complicated and eventual FrostIron.
1. Being Human

**Ohana Means Family**

 **Summary:** Tony gets knocked up. Loki disappears. Bruce is stumped. Thor grows a brain. Fury's a paranoid maniac. Odin makes Fury look like a saint. And Stark Tower needs an upgrade because between the Avengers and Tony's weird new family they're running out of rooms. Complicated and eventual FrostIron.

 **A/N:** Don't ask me why, but this idea came to me out of nowhere and one day I realized I suddenly had fifty pages of something pretty substantial which more than doubled from there. This was germinated and written during a heavy bout of depression that has luckily since passed. It brought me a lot of comfort working on it and it still does. I just really really liked the idea of building this crazy family and what challenges that would entail for everyone to get to a good happy place in the end. So, that's the goal.

 **Warnings:** Each chapter will be marked with appropriate warnings. For this first chapter: references to alcoholism and language, so pretty tame. For the rest of the story: frequent language, sex #thewholereasonthisstoryexists, and mentions of bodily functions and genitalia (I mean it's a story about male pregnancy, come on), LOTS of whump, and deserved ass-kicking. And Odin-bashing. Can't forget the Odin-bashing. Iron Man is about to get whumped like there's no tomorrow, because men truly are babies when it comes to real life. #sorrynotsorry. I guess it's also worth noting that this entire story will just be one big competition for Top SassMaster, so buckle up, kiddos. I am about to have way too much fun with this one…

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters here unless explicitly stated (there will be minor original characters eventually). I just borrow these marvel badasses to keep myself sane and somewhat mentally healthy day to day.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE – Being Human**

"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. addressed. "Per protocol I am obligated to remind you of an anniversary today."

Without glancing up from his work, Tony droned, "Yeah, well Pepper and I obviously don't give a shit, Jarvis, so you can delete that directive."

"Forgive me sir, but that particular anniversary is not set for report until two weeks from today."

Tony opened his mouth to give a smart-ass response in return for the second interruption, but stopped short before J.A.R.V.I.S. could tell him why, mouth still agape. There was only one other anniversary around this time of the year. Tony closed his mouth and sat back in his chair. After a few moments, and tiredly rubbing his hands down his face twice, he sighed and got up from his workspace to head toward the stairs.

"Save everything and shut it down, Jarv," Tony said, pushing through the glass doors to the elevator.

"Very good, sir," the AI responded to the empty room that dimmed and powered down as requested.

When Tony got to the deserted and dim living space level of the penthouse J.A.R.V.I.S. wordlessly brought the lights up without Tony having to ask, including the shelf lighting beneath the bar. The refurbishment company did a good job on the floor. It looked just like it had before Manhattan Day. And to think the damage could have all been done over who wore green better. Tony smirked. The city was rebuilding itself. Tony was just finishing up fixing the rest of the damned tower. He was allowed to have these little light moments with himself, because it wasn't as if he had time to actually fix himself yet.

The bar was getting light.

And he needed a new fucking therapist anyway…

The second he stepped behind the bar to dig for a particular bottle and glass, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Habit made him pull it out. Pepper was calling him. Tony stared at it, then silenced the phone before tossing it onto the counter above his head. He had to move a box of expensive scotch (which he had been saving for a special occasion), so he may have shoved it aside with a little more force than strictly necessary, just to get it out of the way. They rattled loudly. He peeked at it a second later to make sure he hadn't broken any of the bottles. It was the really nice shit, after all.

Hiding in the back corner was a full bottle of red Syrah and next to it was a plain cheap metal cup.

He pulled both out, made quick work of uncorking the bottle, tossed the cork and the opener onto the counter, and made for the roof, leaving his phone purposefully behind.

"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. asked. "As Miss Potts has been unable to reach you, she has instructed me to-"

"Mute," Tony said, as the door closed behind him.

The relative silence that followed was soothing. Manhattan was never fully quiet, but it had its moments where it got damned close. It was a clear night, but seeing a single star was impossible with the light pollution. It actually made him miss Malibu. At least there you could see some stars, however few. He leaned against the railing and looked over the edge with his metal cup full and the bottle carefully stowed at his feet. He belatedly wished he brought a sweatshirt, but the wine would take care of that soon enough.

He'd been cold in that cave too.

" _So what are you," Tony asked, as he stripped the casing from a wire at the worktable._

" _A Whiskey guy or a wino?"_

 _Yinsen spared him a single glance before turning back to measuring the copper. "Alcoholic drinks are against our religion, you know."_

" _I know. So?"_

 _Yinsen paused and shrugged. "Wine I suppose? I had what I suppose was whiskey once. It wasn't pleasant."_

 _Tony let himself smile a little. "I totally pegged you for a wino. You looked like a red kind of guy."_

" _I_ don't _drink, Stark-"_

 _Tony gave him a blank stare, and predictably, Yinsen rolled his eyes and his shoulders hunched down in defeat._

" _Alright, yes… I have had it before, and yes it was red, but I couldn't tell you what it was. We had Christian neighbors. They were quite generous before… they left. It has been a long time. I do not think I remember it properly."_

 _Tony made a noise of disappointment. "I'll think about it."_

" _Think about what?"_

" _What we'll drink when we get out of here."_

"… _ah," Yinsen answered after a moment of silence. "I will have to cede to your expertise on that matter then."_

 _They didn't speak of the underlying tone of doubt. They just continued to work. And while they worked, Tony puzzled the matter of the wine in his head at the same time. He would kill for a good Malbec-_

" _What do you like about it," Yinsen asked after a while. "Is it the actual taste or the way it makes you feel?"_

 _Tony shrugged. "Both. My mom was more the wine person than my dad. He was the whiskey guy. Wine reminds me of her. She was Italian, so… you know. I think my grandfather used to make his own. That's what she used to tell me. I thought about making my own when I was younger, if only to piss my dad off."_

 _Yinsen turned to look at him. "Family traditions typically yield the best results. It's like Edison. By the time you reach your success, you can look behind you and see all the times you refused to accept failure."_

" _I doubt we'll have as many opportunities as Edison," Tony whispered, worry lacing his voice as he paused to inspect the rust build up on an important hinge._

" _Not even a fraction," Yinsen agreed with a placating smile. "You should do that one day, you know. Traditions are meant to be passed down, but also meant to change with each new generation. Stark wine might be a fruitful new business venture for you."_

 _Tony snorted. "Freaking board would kill me."_

 _Yinsen agreed with a hum, then tapped the rusty hinge with his screwdriver. "Are you done staring at that? We've got work to do."_

Even in the face of certain death, Yinsen had smiled.

It didn't take Tony long to find out, but he still marveled at his friend's strength in that dark cave. Tony had looked for Yinsen's family after the man's death. He'd spoken the truth when he said his family was dead. He'd had a wife and son. The boy had only been three. It wasn't as if Tony didn't believe Yinsen's story, but something inside Tony just needed to see it with his own eyes. He thought it would help, knowing their names, where their home had been, where they were buried, after he got back from Afghanistan…

It hadn't.

It just made the nightmares worse.

He missed Yinsen.

A lot.

Aside from saving his life, the man had given him something else Tony had no idea he'd needed. It went beyond his friendship with Rhodey. It went deeper, but without all the intimacy of an actual relationship. It was a companionship that made Tony feel like an actual vulnerable human being for once, and that it was okay, normal even. Tony Stark had spent his life _needing_ to be so high above everyone else that he'd learned to fear being human. He could thank Howard for that, he knew, but he'd been ashamed to realize that in all that survival, he'd lost sight of what his mother had so desperately been trying to instill in him, which was to _not_ let Howard win.

His therapist postulated that perhaps that was where his relationship issues stemmed from. At the time, Tony vehemently denied it, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He grew up in an emotional battlefield where divorce would have been the better option, but had never been an actual option for his poor mother.

Shit, the bottle was empty already?

Damn, that had to be a record for him.

Tony just rolled his eyes and went back to the bar inside, and instead of wine, found a very annoyed Pepper waiting for him. There were dark bags under her eyes, even under the make-up she wore, her hair was messier than normal, and most disturbing was that she looked thinner than she ever had. Tony hadn't seen her in person since the break-up, and he'd heard worried rumors from some of the other executives, but Tony had ignored them (unless of course it was actual harmful gossip about Pepper's character, because their relationship hadn't been a secret-and Tony had to make an example of one asshole who decided to open his cesspool of a mouth in the most damaging way, because if there was one thing Tony had zero tolerance for it was misogyny. And he made damned sure said asshole would never work in the state of New York, much less the entire country ever again-which was satisfying for him and he hoped was relieving for Pepper, but he'd never really gotten confirmation on that last bit, and decided he didn't need any). Looking at Pepper now made him feel like a shit for at the very least not making one office visit since the break-up. The selfish part of him reeled at that, and argued that he deserved his own time to deal with the internal mess left in her wake, and before Afghanistan maybe he would have believed that selfish part of himself. But he was a different Tony Stark, a better one, even if it meant on the inside he felt worse than he'd ever allowed before.

"You know," Pepper said. "You could always update your availability in your schedule."

Tony took a deep breath and forced himself to release it. "You know what day it is," he said, quietly.

"I know," Pepper replied, tired. "Which is why I tried to get a hold of you hours ago, but it's actually pretty hard to get a hold of you these days."

"Wonder why," he muttered.

The glassiness appeared in her eyes, and damn it if she started to cry Tony wasn't sure he knew what he was supposed to do. "Tony," she hedged with a surprisingly steady voice. "I've asked you before if you were still comfortable with us having a working relationship, and you said yes."

"My answer is still yes."

"Is it? You avoid me like the plague. Your CEO for your entire company."

Tony crossed around her behind the bar to give himself an excuse not to look at her and torture himself with all the _blame_. "I get back to you when you need me for company shit," he defended. "Today's just the exception. It won't happen again."

"I…" Then she stopped and took a moment. "Okay," she answered, backing down.

 _God_ , she sounded so much like his own mother right then that it fucking hurt and reverberated in his ears like a bomb. He was a fool to think he'd ever turn out the opposite of Howard, and Pepper was his proof. Fucking great. Tony leaned back against the lower cabinets behind him and crossed his arms. "We good?"

Pepper tried not to bite her lip. "Are we?"

"Yeah," Tony said blank and even. "Yeah, we're good."

Pepper was giving him that _I know you're lying_ look. "What about you? Are you good?"

"I'm always good."

"It's okay if you're not, you know…"

Change the subject. Distract. "What did you need me for?"

Pepper knew his tactics, but visibly made the choice not to call him on it. "It's the merger with the company in Brazil."

"I thought we finished that up two weeks ago?"

"We did. But your lawyers found a loophole with one of the patents. They're working to close it, but can't guarantee getting the net profits back from when the original contract was signed. And _when_ they sign this addendum-"

"They've got bargaining rights," Tony summed up, immediately pinching his nose in frustration.

"Yeah," was the pained response from his _CEO_.

"Whose fault is this? Is it Evan's? Because if it is he's already been on thin fucking ice-"

"It's not Evan's fault-"

"Do we need new arbitrators? Seriously, because I'm ready to tell HR to make it rain with severance letters-"

" _It's mine, okay_ ," Pepper exclaimed with shaking hands thrown up in defense. "It's… _my_ fault. When you and I decided to break up two weeks ago I was… distracted and I wasn't thinking and I didn't… _I'm sorry_ , Tony."

Tony somehow kept his mouth from dropping open.

Pepper _NEVER_ let mistakes like this get passed her. _Everything_ had her final approval because she was as obsessively detail oriented as he was. Given the circumstances, Tony could understand, but that didn't mean he wasn't disappointed and maybe a little unfairly angry with her. Pepper was better than those kind of stupid mistakes. _Maybe that just proves it then…_ that they actually were wrong for each other if something like this could happen. He could feel he wasn't thinking rationally, but couldn't bring himself to actually fucking care at the moment because he had SO not prepared for all this shit when he woke up this morning-on a spur of the moment day off he so rarely took anymore which was just the icing on top of the proverbial cake.

Tony sighed. "You know I'm not upset about the money, Pepper."

"I know it's not about the money," Pepper agreed quietly. "It should be, but-"

"It's not. It's _sloppiness_ that I actually care about," Tony reminded her, then rubbed a hand down his face. "Look it's fine, just… fix it?"

"It's being fixed. And I'm pulling double-duty to make sure it does-"

"You don't have to-"

"Yeah, I kind of do," she bit back. "It's just also my job to still tell you when mistakes are made. Especially if they're mine."

"Well, thanks for owning up to it?"

Pepper opened her mouth to reply, but closed it and swallowed around a very obvious lump in her throat. Tony knew he should feel bad about that last remark, but he was just tired and he really _really_ needed another fucking drink without the judgment look of hell.

"You're welcome," Pepper finally replied, standing up from the stool and heading to the elevator, heels echoing down the hallway.

Tony didn't bother to stop her, much less watch her leave. Instead he stared at the folder Pepper had left on the bar. When the elevator closed, in a fit of anger, Tony grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be the empty wine glass, and threw it across the room. Distantly, he heard it shatter, but it didn't make him feel any better.

His eyes landed on the box of expensive scotch.

It only took a moment's consideration to spitefully grab one of the bottles, a glass, and the folder. He took the back stairs this time down to the lab. At the bottom, J.A.R.V.I.S. predictably denied him entry. "Per one of your directives, sir, I am unable to allow access to the lab with alcoholic-"

"Override," Tony growled.

The door beeped and a green light on the access pad lit up.

Tony wasted no time and crossed right over to his desk.

"Override accepted. You have used all three of your exceptions added to the directive. You will be unable to override this in future unless the directive is manually amended, sir."

"Whatever," he muttered, downing one shot without bothering to savor the taste. As he was pouring a second, his workspace lit up with his hard drive access on the left and most recent project open on the right.

"Would you like to open a new or previous project, sir?"

As the second shot burned down his throat and his head started to comfortingly swim, he sat back in his chair and flipped through the folder. He was mildly annoyed to find it filled with SHEILD bullshit. The folder ended up in the trash bin next to his desk. Maybe he'd consider taking a picture of it and texting it to Fury later.

Tony Stark did _NOT_ work for SHIELD.

And Pepper fucking Potts was _NOT_ going to be treated like a God damned messenger.

"New project, Jarv," Tony decided, grabbing the trash bin and heading towards the enclosed vented air-booth. "We're going to make a little video. Start recording."

After depositing the metal trash bin with the discarded SHIELD folder and paperwork in the center of the room, he briefly exited and re-entered with a canister of gasoline. He thoroughly doused the bin with it and pulled an old-fashioned lighter out of his pocket-the kind that actually stayed lit until you clicked it off. He gave the cameras a brief challenging look before dropping the lighter in the bin. He exited the room as the bin erupted in glorious flames.

Outside the secured and ventilated air-booth he dropped the closed canister of gasoline next to the door and headed back to his desk, relaxing in his chair and pouring himself a third generous shot. He sighed in relaxation and watched the bin and papers burn as he sipped the good scotch.

"Cut and print it, Scorsese," Tony directed. "That's a wrap."

"Would you like to archive or prep for delivery, sir?"

"Uh, _delivery_ ," Tony replied, slightly offended. "Jarvis, I solemnly swear I would never waste your talents on anything but exhibition."

"Who would you like me to deliver this video to?"

"Send it to Coulson with the message to pass it over to Fury. And tell them not to treat my CEO like a runner ever again."

"Message sent and received. It appears Agent Coulson is viewing it as we speak."

Tony smirked.

"Would you like DUM-E to take care of the cleanup, sir?"

"We could use a little ambience," he said, clearing his digital workspace. "Let it burn, baby."

"Very good, sir. Receiving incoming call from Agent Coulson."

"Decline. And you know what," he mused, pausing in his own methodical digital cleanup. "Pull up security and replay the penthouse footage from Manhattan Day, Jarvis."

"Anything in particular you are looking for, sir? Or the usual?"

" _Oh, the usual_."

Tony had watched it on repeat so many times. And every single God damned time it never failed to make him smile. He knew the footage by heart, but sometimes you just needed a little "Puny god," pick-me-up in the middle of the workday.

Or to start your day off.

Or for a late night snack binge.

Karma at its ultimate bitchiness was watching the maniac trickster god get his comeuppance in the best way possible. Though Banner had never been a fan of Loki even he couldn't stand to watch the footage more than once, though Tony attributed that to him just being modest. But the gif that Tony made and sent to him proved it, so he backed off the guy and settled back to sending him weekly nuclear science puns. Bruce had only started texting him back last week.

It was hard for Tony not to latch onto that lifeline with all his might. Rhodey had been away on a secretive Co-Op for the past two months and counting, Romanov, Barton, and Rogers were off somewhere doing God knew what for Fury, and Thor… Tony wasn't touching that depressed puppy with a ten-foot pole. Maybe Loki's relationship with his brother wasn't too hard to understand after all-but even so, don't fucking level a God damned metropolis because you have daddy AND brother issues.

 _Fucking Space Vikings…_

And with the last drop of what was supposed to be their engagement celebration scotch, Tony's mood plummeted. There _was more_ … but it was just upstairs, and he was really not looking forward to sifting through Jarvis' motherboard at the moment. He lazily dragged his eyes back to the end of the clip and watched as Loki tried to sit up, but found himself confronted by the Avengers.

Avengers.

It was a good name.

Maybe one day they'd be more than just a good team.

" _I think I'll take that drink now," a defeated trickster god said with a nervous smile._

Tony snorted.

He was about to stand up and stumble his way up to bed, but there was one thing that had caught his eye, something he'd never noticed before. It was the color of Loki's eyes. They weren't as… glowy as he remembered them.

Huh.

"Jarv. Zoom in top left corner."

Yep, definitely not glowy…

"Go back a couple of minutes before the glorious ass-whooping. Annnnnd zoom in again."

Yep. Glowy…

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Oookay, jump forward."

There was something about the surprised look that Loki was giving the Hulk when he came back to get him. It was as if he'd never seen the green guy before. Which, okay, maybe brain damage, but he was pretty sure the memory of a Norse god was like freaking vibranium. Then Tony noticed the time stamp on the footage. 15:30R. It seemed like only a second before it had read 15:24… that was weird.

Tony sat up straight and leaned forward. "Do me a favor. Blow the frames of the past ten minutes out for me…"

J.A.R.V.I.S. separated out ten frames across the digital display against the far wall. And sure enough, between frames 15:20 and 15:30 were six frames of garbled static. Tony may have been drunk in that moment, but he had never hallucinated when he was drunk before, and this was undoing a lot of happy inebriation he'd accomplished within the past hour.

"What the hell is that," he asked out loud, a mixture of shocked and confused. He specifically remembered doing diagnostics of security after that day and the footage showed no damage at all, so what the royal hell had happened to his archives?

"It is damaged data, sir."

"Yeah, no shit. How much time did we lose?"

"Five point three minutes by my current estimations, though it could in fact be more."

Tony narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. That was a _long_ amount of time… A very long amount of time for a god to just be laying there dazed and confused… "Can you recover any of it?"

"I cannot recover its entirety," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded. "But partial recovery is more likely."

"Do your best. Time estimate?"

"Approximately seventeen minutes."

"Good. Clean it up, get me audio, and give me a transcript of whatever you get."

"Right away, sir."

Tony sighed loud and dramatic as he made his way over to the lab's kitchenette. "And after that do another full systems diagnostic. You're getting a tune up in the morning."

Fifteen minutes later and a near panic attack at possibly being out of his favorite coffee grounds _and_ nearly breaking his favorite mug, he was back in his desk chair trying not to chug his precious steaming black life elixir.

"Suspense is killing me, Jarv," Tony complained. He had a meeting tomorrow at 8AM and he was going to be a literal zombie.

"I am almost finished the requested _detailed_ analysis, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. shot back to him with some slight attitude.

Tony smirked. His A.I. had a tendency to get testy at 3am and it was a quirk in the system Tony kept forgetting to fix, though to be honest he didn't really want to. Maybe it would have been a little scary to some people, but to Tony the humanity behind it was actually comforting. It made him feel a little more secure that the one constant in his life could have feelings like him. Even J.A.R.V.I.S. needed his beauty sleep to function optimally.

"Analysis complete," J.A.R.V.I.S. finally relayed.

"Alright," Tony said, leaning back in his chair. "What do we got?"

The recovered images were choppy, but it showed Loki writhing on the ruined floor. There were sounds of gasping and choking, and then moaning. There were the glowy blue eyes, then a big burst of blue light-and then literally out of fucking nowhere was this cloaked alien holding the trickster god up on his knees by the throat.

Tony leaned forward across the desk, coffee forgotten.

Who the _fuck_ was that tattered robed space wizard alien?

Loki struggled against the hold, managing to knock the hood down. Tony almost wished he hadn't because underneath the hood was a gross mottling of skin and _blood?_ and other stuff Tony really didn't want to know about. In retaliation, the alien slammed Loki down to the ground like a ragdoll-and this time it definitely wasn't as funny as when the Hulk did it. The alien leaned over Loki, faces uncomfortably close, and finally spoke.

" _You will finish what you started," the alien spat. "You will not let these_ insects _make a mockery of the great Titan's far-reach! Get up and crush them, little god."_

 _Then the hand the alien had around Loki's throat glowed blue. The effect on the god was like electricity. He tensed, shook, and his face contorted in pain as he struggled to fight it off._

" _You… will make demands of me no longer," Loki gasped. He got in a solid punch, but the alien angrily spun the god against him/it in a headlock. Loki kicked his legs out and tried to reach up for the alien, but it tightened the hold it had around his neck._

" _Wretch," the alien continued. "By his grace, he pulled you from the darkest depths of the great core before it could rip your cells apart and this is how you show your gratitude? I warned you what would happen if you dared defy me-"_

There was some static, but when it cleared there was another flash of blue light and a loud screech-probably from the gross alien who just got its ass tossed across the room. On the floor was a panting and sweaty Loki, grasping a bloody dagger.

" _I agreed to steal for you," Loki said, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Not commit genocide!"_

" _Your consent is irrelevant," the alien growled, getting to his feet and raising two blue glowing hands. "You are his tool, thereby my instrument-weak as you are. You do as I command, lying thief!"_

" _I am no one's pawn, least of all his, or yours. Get out of my head!"_

" _YOU WILL OBEY ME!"_

A choked scream.

More static.

Lots of static.

Lots of blue light.

A different shriek.

The alien stumbled toward the open window. Loki had been on his feet, but had fallen back to his knees, then sank to his side, dagger still grasped in his left hand.

" _You will pay for your subordinance," the alien threatened. "I will enjoy watching you suffer when the Great Titan tears through the Andromeda and through your precious Midgard. I will ensure your head rots on a spike when Asgard falls!"_

Then the gross alien disappeared in a smaller flash of blue light, leaving Loki collapsed on the floor, shaking. Shaking? No… sobbing… with tears. It only lasted a few moments before the god pulled himself together, but regardless it left Tony in a state of shock as he watched a familiar portion of the footage where the rest of the team returned to take the god into custody.

" _I think I will take that drink now," Loki stated, looking up with that nervous smile._

"Oh _fuuuck_ ," Tony drawled, covering his face with his hands. He fisted those numb hands in his hair, still staring at the frozen image in disbelief. Fucking alien mind-control…

Tony Stark was looking at an innocent man… well, _god_ … but still. _Fuck._ Innocent?

Really…?

Really…?!

Tony dropped his head onto his desk with a thud. He groaned loudly and fisted his hands in his hair.

Innocent.

Fucking innocent.

Well, not _entirely_ innocent, but innocent enough. If anything, the god was a glorified thief, but not a conscious murderer.

And then there was the melancholic Thor who refused recent SHIELD business because he was pre-mourning his brother's upcoming execution—

Annnnnnnnd, _there's_ the guilt.

"Jarvis," he said slowly, hating every word coming out of his mouth. "Call Thor…"

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

 _Did the Norse idiot forget how to use it?_

After the sixth ring Tony rolled his eyes. "Pick up Thunder-thighs…come on…it's not that hard-"

"MAN OF IRON," thundered the joyful god through the speakers. Tony could barely blame him because since he'd made the initial mistake of giving Thor a Stark phone, he vowed never to actually call him-for this exact reason. And yet, here they were. "HOW FARE THEE?"

"Jesus Christ, I fare with _hearing damage_ , but that's beyond the point. This is an emergency. I need you to-"

"I HAVE JUST RETURNED FROM VANAHEIM. I APOLOGIZE FOR MY ABSENCE BUT I HAVE TOLD DIRECTOR FURY THAT I CANNOT SPARE-"

" _God of thunder_ ," Tony shouted. " _Move the receiver away from your megaphone of a mouth!"_ He was so having the world's worst hangover in the morning… "…thank you! Now put the other end near your ear so you can actually listen to what I'm telling you. Good. I need you to come to the tower. It's not about Shield. I have something you need to see and it's about Loki-"

"LOKI?! MY BROTHER IS-"

"Adopted, _I know-_ Thor, _listen!_ I need you here _now_ , okay? Like right this second now. It's about him and it's an emergency, okay? Can you do that-?"

"Disturbance detected on the roof, sir," JARVIS interrupted. "It appears Thor Odinson took your statement quite literally."

Tony jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs. "The fuck he did!"

But when he made it to the roof's balcony, there was the god of thunder in all his Norse majestic-ness. Cape, hammer, freaking Stark phone in his hand, and a stupid smug smile on his face.

As Tony stepped out to meet him, he couldn't help but stare dumbfounded. "How the hell did you get here so fast?"

Thor shrugged. "No traffic."

Tony rolled his eyes and huffed. "Cute. Follow me."

"Has Midgard remained at peace since we last met," Thor asked, following Tony through the penthouse down to the lab.

"Peace is relative these days, isn't it," Tony threw back. "But no more alien invasions if that's what you're curious about. How's the phone? Does it need a charge?"

Thor stared at the phone in his hand and handed it over without a word. Tony spared it one glance before tossing it on the charge station on his desk. He would have to get Thor the newer model soon so he could test out the new feature.

"You said this was about my brother?"

"It is. Now, watch this and tell me what you see."

J.A.R.V.I.S. replayed the damaged footage and Thor watched in disbelief. Eventually the disbelief gave way to confusion, and then anger. Tony got a little worried when he saw the god of thunder struggling to reign in his anger. The last time Thor lost his temper, the small scale EMP from his hammer hitting Cap's shield had wiped out his suit's short-term RAM.

"Who is that creature," Thor growled, watching Loki's struggle. "I do not remember seeing it that day."

"I was hoping you had an answer," Tony replied. "Do you have any idea who this Titan is?"

"I do not. But the Allfather may."

"Yeah, well, let me know if he does," Tony said, before downloading the footage to Thor's phone and instructing him on how to play it back. "Better yet, let Fury know."

"If this is true, that my brother was being controlled," Thor mused, making his way back to the roof. "It would take a powerful being to do so."

"And it means someone else was pulling the strings on Manhattan day," Tony added.

"I will get to the bottom of this and return with answers."

"Just text me."

Thor stared in confusion, but shrugged and moved toward the platform.

"And hey," Tony called after Thor, raising his hands. "Not like I don't deserve the intergalactic Nobel Prize for this or anything, but make sure your brother knows he's still on my shit list."

For the first time in a while, Thor turned and looked at him with a spark of happiness. "My brother will owe you his life, Tony Stark. You have my eternal thanks for this. I would embrace you, but…"

"Yeah, we've talked about it," Tony said, waving him off. He didn't do hugs. "Not gonna change anytime soon. Might wanna go before you hit rush hour."

Thor was gone in a loud whirlwind of light and thunder.

Tony was left behind with the sadly sober and excited buzzing whirlwind of his own thoughts. Fury was going to have an aneurysm. _This_ conversation with the SHIELD director Tony would absolutely enjoy.

* * *

 **A/N: First time writing for this fandom. Let me know what you think. I'm going to try and set a rigorous schedule for myself and update every week. I will also be posting this to my AO3 account, so the eventual and more explicit material will ultimately end up there instead of here. I'll try to remember and leave a note here anytime there's additional material on AO3. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Just a little text

**CHAPTER TWO – Just a Text**

 _ **THOR ODINSON:**_ _Stark, I understand I have you to thank for the commuting of my death sentence. I would thank you, but would hate to inflate your mortal ego more than strictly necessary. You may consider this gesture a kindness to Lady Frigga, Queen of Asgard. Do not mistake it for favor with the Allfather. Or do and give me cause for entertainment. I care not which. I believe I have taught my brother the proper use of this device, so for this one time only I will apologize. –Loki_

Tony got the text at seven o'clock in the morning right after he finished showering and dressing for what was supposed to be the 8AM board meeting from hell.

He stared at it, momentarily distracted from the drawer in his closet that held a portion of his ties. It had been a few days since the discovery of the footage and Thor's visit. Once he explained what actually happened to Pepper in the morning, she'd taken pity on his hangover and rescheduled the dreaded board meeting. He made sure to send her a small vase of her favorite flowers (which just happened to be stargazer lilies) (and small because if he actually bought her enough for her entire office a. creeps did that and b. mixed messages were the epitome of desperate) (he was still getting her favorite sushi for lunch delivered, but that was only because she never actually took a god damned lunch to begin with) as the smallest token of thanks.

If Tony were completely honest, he was actually taken aback that the maniac even wanted to say a single word to him. Yeah, Tony saved his ass, but it was the right thing to do. Because Superhero. And because Tony had spent too many years before Afghanistan ignoring the right thing that needed to be done. Thinking of all the lives his past complacency negatively affected never ended well for him… God, it was too early for a drink and he knew it. Today was going to suck.

 _ **Stark (Iron Man):**_ _Apology appreciated. And you're welcome for rotting in prison the rest of your life. Hope it treats you well. That's entertainment enough for me. Also, thanks for destroying my tower, asshole._

Tony chose a deep red satin tie and made quick practiced work of the knot, tucking it into his dark grey vest. On his way to the kitchen, he grabbed the box of donuts he'd had delivered 20 minutes ago and headed toward the elevator with his phone in his pocket. J.A.R.V.I.S. started the quick descent to the garage for him without a word. On the way down, and a big bite of a boston creamed donut later, he checked his notifications and saw another message waiting for him.

 _ **THOR ODINSON:**_ _For the record, Stark, I destroyed one window. Your Hulk did the rest. –Loki_

Tony snorted from behind his sunglasses.

 _ **Stark (Iron Man):**_ _Semantics._

He exited the elevator and made for the black Audi with Happy standing at near-attention next to the back car door.

 _ **THOR ODINSON:**_ _MOST JOYOUS GREETINGS MAN OF IRON!_

Tony cringed and sighed. "I hope you do fucking rot, you dick," he muttered as a curse to the trickster god, reluctantly texting a response back to Thor.

 _ **Stark (Iron Man):**_ _Hi, Thor... f_ _inally learn how to text?_

"Morning, boss," Happy greeted.

"Uh-huh."

Happy frowned. "You okay?"

Tony sighed and shoved the donut box at Happy who grabbed it with a look of confusion. Tony then reached into his own pocket and pullet out his wallet. He snatched a hundred dollar bill out of it, replaced his wallet in his pocket, took the donut box back, and gave Happy the bill.

"W-wait, which bet is this for?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Thunder-thighs came into the twenty-first century."

"No," Happy gasped as Tony climbed into the backseat of the Audi. "Seriously?!"

"You rub it in and you lose your donut privileges."

"That's okay. I'm on a diet." Happy closed the door, walked around to the front, climbed in and clicked his seatbelt. Before he could shift the car into drive, Tony held a donut with chocolate icing and rainbow jimmies through the usually open, but sometimes closed privacy window. Happy turned his head and looked at the donut inches from his face. He looked back at Tony who patiently held it aloft. Happy sighed and deflated. "Come on, Tony, you know I'm on a diet!"

"Yes, and every diet has a cheat day. Today is your donut cheat day."

"I was going to have Five Guys for my cheat day."

"Pretty sure it's universally understood that you can have more than one cheat on your cheat day. You're just starting it off with donuts."

Happy sighed and took the donut. "My new girlfriend thanks you," he sarcastically said, taking a mouthwatering bite and groaning in pleasure.

"Just tell her you're living your best life," Tony said with a smirk and another donut for himself.

"Yeah," Happy said between bites and weaving back into early morning rush hour. "I'm getting you to your board meeting late. That's really my best life."

"Yours and mine both, buddy," he said as he pulled his phone out for the umpteenth time this morning. He sighed. He hadn't gotten this many texts since before he blocked the Galaga dude. _Fifteen_ of them were emojis and only two of them actually had any text, oddly enough bookending all of them;

 _ **THOR ODINSON:**_ _THESE TEXT MESSAGES I AM TOLD CAN ALSO CONTAIN IMAGES AND FACIAL EXPRESSIONS ^_^_

 _ **THOR ODINSON:**_ _MY BROTHER REFUSES TO TELL ME MORE, BUT WHY DO YOU CALL THESE EMOJEES?_

"Jesus Christ," Tony muttered, tossing his phone onto the seat next to him.

Happy tried and failed to cover a snort of laughter-which lost him his next donut.

In the end, after the hellish board meeting that lived up to its name, and after a week of enduring Thor's excited puppy discoveries, Tony caved and made Thor sneak in a Stark phone in to Loki. It was only to actually give the Norse god the verbal abuse he actually deserved for making Tony's life a living hell for the past week. Because if this asshole was going to get off for only being partly guilty and had to suffer life in prison (probably in some kind of luxury just because he was a Prince), then Tony was going to make sure the god appreciated every second of it.

 _ **Stark (Iron Man):**_ _You're one cruel fucking bastard, you know that?_

 _ **Loki (god of lies and mischief)**_ _: I would apologize, but I believe I already have._

 _ **Stark (Iron Man):**_ _-_-_

 _ **Loki, (god of lies and mischief)**_ _: :-)_

This jackass…

 _ **Stark (Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist):**_ _Seriously, he texts me in the middle of the night and if I don't reply back within ten seconds he calls. I haven't gotten a full night's sleep in a week because he keeps discovering new gifs._

 _ **Stark (Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist):**_ _Nevermind the fact that he figured out how to group chat all of us._

 _ **Stark (Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist):**_ _I've been trying to dodge Nat and Clint for the past three days thanks to you._

 _ **Stark (Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist):**_ _And don't get me started on the god damned memes…_

 _ **Loki, (god of lies and mischief)**_ _: I fail to see how this is my problem…_

 _ **Stark (Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist):**_ _He's your brother._

 _ **Loki, (god of lies and mischief)**_ _: Semantics._

 _ **Stark (the Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist who saved your ass)**_ _: Fine, adopted cohort you've known since diapers._

 _ **Stark (the Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist who saved your ass)**_ _: And for the record, I used that line first._

 _ **Stark**_ _ **(the Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist who saved your ass)**_ _: It's called originality._

 _ **Loki (the god of lies and mischief who tossed you out of your own window):**_ _You gave him the device._

 _ **Stark (Avenger who handed your ass back to you when you lost it like I said you would):**_ _You taught him how to use it._

 _ **Loki (god):**_ _I am sure you have the ability to remotely disable it._

 _ **Stark (Avenger):**_ _I have been, dipshit. Somebody keeps_ _undisabling_ _it._

 _ **Loki (Former King of Asgard):**_ _Oh dear._

 _ **Loki (Former King of Asgard):**_ _That sounds like a flaw in your system, Stark._

 _ **Loki (Former King of Asgard):**_ _Perhaps you should get that fixed._

 _ **Loki (Former King of Asgard):**_ _:-)_

3AM. He was arguing with an Asgardian mass-kindof-murdering maniac at 3 in the fucking morning. This was Tony Stark's current life. And he didn't even have alcohol to dull the pent up frustration he still felt-and hoped would have been gone by now after taking it out on he who hath most fucking deserved it.

Fucking entitled little piece of…

 _ **Stark (Still Freaking Iron Man)**_ _: Find yourself a prison husband yet?_

Five minutes pass.

Ten minutes pass.

Tony smirked to himself in triumph as he climbed into bed after changing into a well worn ACDC shirt and a fresh pair of sleep pants. J.A.R.V.I.S. turned out the lights for him without request and Tony made himself comfortable under the cool covers with a sigh. It was one hell of a week for Pepper and J.A.R.V.I.S. to team up against him and override the locks on the bar. He tried not to think about it. And he supposed the texting helped. He could get used to throwing his weight behind insulting the pompous Asgardian Prince if it meant not craving an entire bottle of Johnnie Walker.

He closed his eyes and had just started to drift off…

Then:

 _ **Loki (Still Immortal):**_ _Jealous, are we?_

Tony snorted, set his phone to silent and set it on his wireless bedside charging station. Surprisingly, getting to sleep was easier than it had been the entire past week-which made sense given all the sleep Thor had cost him (because even his insomnia had limits). The problem was… he dreamed.

He dreamed about the sound that scepter had made when it touched his arc reactor. And how it made the skin on his chest tingle in anticipation…

He dreamed about that hand around his throat, the callused cold, the power behind it that could have snapped his neck if the god so chose.

He dreamed about the god's voice in his ear: the accent twisting the meaning of the words his brain struggled to catch up with, the feeling of the chilled breath against his earlobe and cheek, the threat and promise.

 _Jealous are we?_

As soon as he woke in the morning he took a cold shower.

Tony Stark _hated_ cold showers. And Pepper Potts could always tell when he had to take cold showers because no amount of blessed coffee could caffeinate away the immoveable grumpiness that always ensued afterward. She hadn't complained when he tore his executives a new asshole for their work on the Brazil project, but she did approach him in private after the morning briefing.

"Tony," she tentatively started. "Is everything…"

"Is everything _what_?"

Pepper raised a very not impressed eyebrow at him. " _Are you okay?_ "

Tony took a moment to breathe and eventually said, "I'm fine."

"Anyone who says they're fine never means it, and you definitely are not fine," Pepper shot back. "I'll ask you this once and that will be the end of it. Do you want to talk about it?"

Tony opened his mouth to respond, stopped to think about it and weigh the consequences, then shut his mouth and sighed. "No."

"Okay," was all Pepper said without judgment. "You've got an interview with the President of Japan at noon on Wednesday. I cancelled your press conference tomorrow until marketing finishes up the new advertising we approved for the new phone. We've just got a short quarterly briefing with security and IT before lunch. After that I need you to finish those new specs for the military."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You mean _Rhodey_ , needs me to finish them."

"Of course I mean, Rhodey. And he would appreciate a call before dinner. He hasn't heard from you in a while."

"Didn't even know he was back."

"He was debriefed yesterday."

"That jerk," he muttered.

"I know," Pepper replied with light sarcasm as she packed up her materials and prepared to move them both to the next room, whipping out her tablet on the way. "How dare he take any time for himself once he gets stateside."

"Hey," he said softly to grab Peppers attention. "Sorry I'm an asshole, today."

Pepper didn't even blink. "It's okay," she said, even and genuine. "I don't need to know, but if you need to talk to someone about it… Rhodey or even Happy would probably understand."

Two days later, in the middle of a presentation from Bioengineering that Tony was struggling to stay awake in, he'd gotten the silent alert he'd been waiting for. He'd actually been waiting for a while to see what would happen when the god of mischief noticed a trick of Tony's own...

Tony snorted behind his fist, then cleared his throat loudly to cover it. The presenter stumbled to a stop, but Tony waved the poor man on to continue. Eventually he did. And Tony busied himself with watching the background data activity of Loki's Stark Phone. He could see the god try and fail to change the moniker he'd added to his name. He couldn't help but smile. Still ignoring the presentation, he sent Pepper an innocent look when he caught her glaring at him.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Oh, you petulant little child…_

 _ **Stark (Badass Avenger):**_ _Cool, it works._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What works? This device was unusable three hours ago._

 _ **Stark (Badass Avenger):**_ _Yeah, because I let the battery run out to test the new remote charge feature._

 _ **Stark (Badass Avenger):**_ _Didn't I mention you were the guinea pig?_

 _ **Stark (Badass Avenger):**_ _:-)_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You must have forgotten to mention that…_

 _ **Stark (Badass Avenger):**_ _Oops._

 _ **Stark (Badass Avenger):**_ _But yay me._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Change this name, Stark._

 _ **Stark (Badass Tech Genius):**_ _But it fits you so well._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You will regret not changing this._

 _ **Stark (Badass Overall):**_ _Aww. Threats for little ol' me? I didn't know you cared Lokes._

A little bit of time passed. The meeting had been over for five minutes and Pepper was finishing up her own set of notes. She'd taken one look at him, sighed, and ordered him to get back to the lab-and namely out of her hair for the rest of the day which Tony was completely fine with. In celebration, he'd gotten schwarma for lunch. And promptly passed out on the couch in his lab from the food coma afterward. When he got up later to drag himself to his workdesk, and sift through the thousand group chat messages and individual continued death threats from Nat and Clint, he zeroed in on the latest message from Loki.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You never answered my question._

Tony narrowed his eyes. Two could play this game…

 _ **Stark (Badass Overall):**_ _Did prison rot your brain already?_

 _ **Stark (Badass Overall):**_ _I just answered two today._

 _ **Stark (Badass Overall):**_ _Give or take lag time for space texting._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You know exactly what question I mean._

 _ **Stark (Badass Overall):**_ _Yeah well, you never answered mine._

 _ **Stark (Badass Overall):**_ _And I asked first._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Solitary confinement rather negates the possibility of finding a suitable spouse._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _If one held any interest in this colorful pool of Odin's enemies._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Or any interest in such things at all._

Tony raised an eyebrow. He didn't really expect honesty. It was oddly refreshing, but did nothing to put him at ease because this was Loki he was texting with. And not for nothing, but his curiosity always won out when it came to poking the proverbial beast.

 _ **Stark (Badass Freaking Iron Man):**_ _There. Was that so hard?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Gloat as you will. The vanity of your mortal pride speaks for itself._

 _ **Stark (Badass Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Guilty._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _For your pride, or your jealousy?_

 _ **Stark (Badass Freaking Iron Man):**_ _You're a real comedian._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Actually, I'm a god. Come back when you've done your research. I'll look forward to finally speaking with a somewhat intelligent being then._

The problem was, Tony DID do some research.

 _ **Stark (Badass Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Did you seriously fuck a horse?_

Predictably, Tony never got a response to that text.

And the research had only fueled his damned dreams at night.

He dreamed of what he imagined riding a horse would be like. It quickly devolved from the feeling of powerful legs beneath him to burning powerful thrusts into him from behind. He felt his mind try to wake himself up, but his treacherous body kept him under. He heard himself moan out loud. Those thrusts were just shy of his prostate and it was driving him nuts. That was when he noticed that he was restrained with leather straps.

 _Jealous are we?_

" _Yes,"_ he heard himself whine.

When he woke up, the evidence of the dream was all over his stomach and sheets. He groaned in frustration right into his pillow, took a shower, and barely said a word to anyone all day. Pepper, blessedly, gave him space. And Tony flat out refused to answer Rhodey's texts.

Then, he dreamed of when Loki had been bound in the back of the Quinjet. Steve was up front, talking to someone. And Tony had himself in Loki's mouth, slowly thrusting in and out, along that warm and deliciously wet tongue. Someone could see, he knew, someone might see, he wanted, but they kept talking and he kept fucking the god's pliant mouth. His lips closed around Tony and finally sucked.

Same as before, he woke up a sticky mess, took his cold shower, and gave one-worded answers to questions from executives and Pepper because being a hermit two days in a row was a stretch for him. Rhodey had come to visit this time and held his hands up in surrender when Tony nearly bit his head off. He apologized to Rhodey after it, feeling like a real shit, but felt like he couldn't fucking help himself after everything. And Rhodey, who was his best friend, could read him like a Steinbeck novel.

"Seriously, who is it," Rhodey probed, arms crossed as he leaned back in one of Tony's cushy wheeled lab chairs.

"Who is who," Tony asked back, busying himself with some upgrades for his new suit.

"You're frustrated, man. It's kind of obvious."

"Is that what Pepper thinks?"

"It's what we _all_ think."

"All? Who's 'we all'?"

"Me, Pepper, Happy-"

Tony groaned out loud into his hands as he covered his face. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"I think you need to talk about it."

"I really think I don't."

"Why? Because if you do it's going to get worse?"

"Kind of," he snapped. He hadn't meant to admit it out loud. He had hoped that eventually it would wear off like all the other flings he'd had over the years, but for whatever reason he just couldn't get his mind off the Asgardian asshat. And it bothered him.

"Are you still into Pepper," Rhodey asked softly.

"No," Tony said with conviction.

"Okay," he replied, placating. "Okay! That's fine. So who is it? Nat?"

"God, no," Tony answered with a shudder. "That woman fucking terrifies me."

"Fair. So… am I going to have to keep guessing or are you gonna help a brother help you out here?"

Tony sighed and rubbed at his eyes, hating himself for every word that was spilling from his mouth. "It's…a _guy._ "

"Okay…" Rhodey said slowly. "And your point is?"

Tony looked at him with a raised eyebrow of disbelief.

"Don't give me that look, man," Rhodey said, shaking his head.

Tony threw his hands in the air and crossed his arms after a sputtered and failed verbal response.

"What, you think I didn't know that about you? Or that it bothers me? Please don't tell me you thought that would bother me-"

"No! No, it's just…" Tony let out a frustrated growl. "It's _fucking complicated_ , okay?"

"Is it someone from the team?"

"I'm just not ready to talk about it yet."

"Is it Cap?"

"No, its not Cap."

Rhodey gave him a look. "It's Cap, isn't it?"

"It's. Really. _Not._ "

"Okay," Rhodey gave in, taking a breath. "Listen, I'm here, man. You know I'm here. So talk to me when you're ready. Alright? You gotta promise me."

"I promise," Tony said, fully intending on breaking that promise because there was no way in hell he could tell _anyone_ that he was having sexual fantasies about _Loki._

Tony should have expected it. He really should have. Because that was how his anxieties always caught up with him. It was how it always fucking happened. If he was trying to ignore something, it would manifest itself based on the very thing he was trying to ignore. When he dreamed this time, it wasn't a fantasy.

It was a nightmare.

He was drifting alone in the deep nothingness of space, in the absence of feeling and sound. It had been his choice. He was expecting to blow up any second into oblivion. He wouldn't feel it. That was a comfort. But then he was falling. And it was loud. He was going to feel this. He was going to feel pain before he died. Where was that voice from before? He'd been thrown. He was falling because he'd been thrown. Where was his watch-where was his suit-Shit, he wasn't ready-Pepper-he wasn't ready-he couldn't breathe-his vision was tunneling in-his stomach was a hurricane-he was so fucking cold-nothing nothing nothing nothing-death was actually nothing at all—

He shot straight up in bed, gasping and panting for air, hand clutching his chest and arc reactor. It hurt. It really fucking hurt because he couldn't breathe.

Panic attack.

He was having a panic attack.

Why was there no light? J.A.R.V.I.S. always turned on the light when he was having an attack. J.A.R.V.I.S. was down for a system update. Shit-fuck-balls-he dove with shaking hands for his phone and fumbled a quick text to the first person in his queue.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Please tll me you're awake._

And completely forgot that the last person he texted **wasn't** Pepper Potts.

Or Rhodey.

Or even fucking Happy.

He hadn't realized his mistake until a text message came through several seconds later, breaking his infinite agony like a window shattering because of a rock and well-aimed power shot of a professional athlete pitcher for the freaking Mets:

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Gods rarely sleep, Stark._

Oh shit-Oh fuck-He tried-like **really** tried to come up with a witty reply text- _Sorry you're not the one I meant to talk through my panic attack to-Call you in the morning when I'm not passed out from accidental asphyxiation or heart attack or stroke-_ he was such a **fucking idiot** -He hadn't meant to-but it didn't fucking matter, he couldn't afford another second of this gaping black hole in his chest that was going to swallow him up along with everything and everyone he loved-

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Tell me something._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Anything._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _I don't care how stupid it is._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Please._

Because **fuck** appearances at this point. God, what were his breathing exercises again? Shit. He'd written them down somewhere. He tried to stop the painful wheezing-this was so much easier when someone else was here to just talk him through it.

Did he dare break that wall between himself and the god? Shit, if he did there'd be no going back. His chest kept constricting, muscles trying and failing to remember how to get air in his body because there was one organ in charge of all of that-his shrapnel surrounded heart-but then the reactor was supposed to help with that and damn it if it didn't feel the exact same way when Obi physically stole it from his chest and left him to die-

Tony didn't think about it. He just pressed the call button and desperately pressed the receiver to his ear as it rang twice before the other end picked up.

"Stark," Loki asked or greeted.

Tony didn't care what the intent was behind that, because it was the briefest in small reliefs that he needed. There was a person with him. Someone to talk to. Someone to make sure he didn't obliviate into complete nothingness despite being so fucking alone-

"Why are you breathing like that," the god asked.

"P-panic," he gasped. "Attack."

"If you can speak, you can breathe," the god droned. "You don't need my help to do that."

Tony recognized it as an attempt at normalcy, but that shit never worked with him.

"P-please just… anything-start talking!"

Loki took a breath, and surprisingly, began as requested. "I don't suppose Thor has ever elaborated upon how he came to be so familiar with your world. I would love to say that it was an accident, as mine was, but his was due to his own stupidity…"

At points, Loki would pause to listen to Tony's breathing and then ultimately continue. Towards the end he would continue to pause, but despite it even starting to sound normal to Tony's ears, Loki finished the story regardless. A long while later when Loki finished the story, Tony was breathing normally, exhausted, but no longer in the grips of such intense and immobilizing fear.

"Is it gone," Loki asked.

"Yeah," Tony breathed, softly. "Thanks…"

Loki ended the call without another word, and Tony was actually relieved enough to fall back to sleep. It was a deep and dreamless sleep. The next morning, well after 10AM and among several missed calls and over three hundred emails, Tony had a text waiting for him from the god.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _I do not suppose it has ever occurred to you that you are not the only vulnerable life forms in the nine realms? You may be among the weakest, but in my travels I have come to find Midgardians to be amongst the most… compassionate._

Tony stared at it with a little appreciation, but mostly with confusion.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _How's that?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Any warlord from Niflheim would have bled me dry instead of handing me over to be locked away._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _And made use of my body as a trophy I imagine._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Five hundred years has tamed you Midgardians._

Tony snorted as he sat up in bed, his body protesting every movement.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _You sound disappointed._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _I am intrigued as always by evolution._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _No race has grown as fast as yours._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _And if nothing else, I repay my debts._

Tony smiled and huffed some laughter.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Yeah, I totally had you pegged for Lannister._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What is that?_

Tony thought about it for a second, then uploaded the first book of Game of Thrones to Loki's Starkphone.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What is this?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Well, it's not like you're allowed to get presents or anything. Getting that phone to you was hard enough._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _It's a book._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Obviously._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What do you expect me to do with this?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Uh… read it?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _It's medieval sci-fi fantasy and all that dorky shit._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Supposed to be good._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Let me know how it is._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You know what this is but have not read it?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Can't help myself when it comes to spoilers._

A couple of days later, mostly spent hibernating in his lab with projects and ignoring texts and calls from Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy combined, Tony got the much anticipated request for another.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Is there a sequel?_

With a smile and without a response, Tony remotely uploaded A Clash of Kings. The same pattern would evolve over the course of the next week. Every couple of days Loki would ask for the next installment, and Tony would chicken out and just wordlessly upload the next one without any further communication. He still felt embarrassed that he'd reached out to the god when he needed someone to talk him through his panic attack. And he knew he could only stall for so long. Oddly enough, Loki was willing to let him. Which was just…weird. But maybe the Loki he'd met under the mind-control really had been a different Loki than this one that read books and had the patience to help him through a rough moment or two.

It was less than a day after uploading the last installment that Loki texted him again.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You must think yourself so clever…_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _99% of the time, yeah._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You knew this series had no ending!_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Yet. How'd you figure that out?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Google._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _And a short threatening correspondence with its author for his insulting laziness._

Tony stared wide-eyed at the text. Yeesh. Tony had to remember to limit Loki's full internet access later. That was a scary thought if he could find something like that on his own.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Pretty sure a lot of fans would murder you if you scared the old guy into a heart attack._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Or I could have given him the incentive he needed. In which case, they would praise me for my efforts._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Potato Potahto, Mr. superiority complex._

He gave the god a few minutes. Tony even ran up to the kitchen to snatch his late dinner delivery and a soda from the fridge.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _So…?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _How was it?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Inquiring minds want to know._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _The odds of you reading this series I wager is infinitesimal._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Humor me._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _The Red Wedding interested me._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _I knew it._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):** You have done nothing to change my lowly opinion of your kind as storytellers. _

_**Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Definitely not introducing you to Firefly then…_

Tony uploaded the entire series to Loki's media library.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _If you believe I will fall for another one of your tricks, mortal, you are sadly mistaken._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _It's not like you've got anyone better to do._

The second he hit send he realized his typo and cursed, trying frantically to reverse it, but had already been received… and read.

Fuck.

 _Fuuuuuuuuck…_

Maybe he wouldn't notice…

… balls.

He's not writing back… _Why isn't he writing back?!_

Send a correction-send a correction-spell the fucking word right this time-

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):** A f_ _air point._

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, covering it in motor grease, but his pounding heart didn't give a shit. "Jarv," he called. "Make a note to install a boomerang feature on the new phone prototype."

"Noted, sir," the A.I. replied.

He looked down at his blinking phone again and wiped the grease and grit off the stain resistant cover with ease and no lasting damage or gunk. Best fucking gift he ever gave himself. "And tell marketing to move ahead with sales for the resistant case cover. Every color of the fucking rainbow if they want. What the hell? Early Christmas for everybody this year, right?"

"Very good, sir. Shall I also inform Ms. Potts?"

"Oh sure… why not?-"

Another text.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _There is only myself._

The images those four words immediately conjured up were pure sin. Once Tony's brain could move past the immediate knee-jerk response, he realized the double meaning. Was there another thing there? Did… did he just…?

Tony forced himself to breathe.

Then he fled the lab for the master bathroom.

"Shall I shut everything down for the night, sir?"

"Yeah no shit, shut it down," he said, angrily yanking his shirt and pants off, chucking them into the corner and bracing his hands on the clean countertop to take a moment for himself.

He was not going to look down. He was not going to look in the mirror either. He was going to ignore his very obvious state of arousal and take another cold shower. Part of him withered at that. It wasn't as if they were helping. Sometimes it just made them worse. Because that day he'd felt the cold breath against the side of his face when Loki hissed into his ear. Tony didn't understand how it was possible because Thor was a god damned heater whenever you stood next to him, but fucking aliens so whatever. Maybe it was the mind-control shit?

"Your usual temperature, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, as he started the shower for Tony. "Or would you prefer-"

"Make it cold and ignore me for a while, would you," he snapped, wriggling out of his underwear and tossing it. As he forced himself under the spray, which chilled only a second after he stepped under it.

"Very good, sir."

Tony knelt down on the stone floor of the shower and leaned forward onto all fours, then fisted his hair through his fingers with the cold spray raining down on his back.

The god had to have meant what he said in that text. He had to. He had to know exactly what kind of effect it would have on him. He fucking knew it. And he did it anyway. That fucking bastard. He was playing with him. But wasn't Tony doing the same thing? Maybe it was fair play. Play?

The cold stung. It grounded him. But it also reminded him.

 _Jealous, are we?_

What would he give to have that cold hand on his back, have it move down, around the front, another through his hair, grab it, hold him down, take what he wanted.

" _Why are you breathing like that?"_

Tony hadn't even noticed until he was close that he'd been doing it to himself. And he was too far gone to stop or change the temperature of the shower to will the want and need away. He was so fucking tired of ignoring it, tired of the fucking dreams, tired of the wordplay, tired of waking up alone and a mess.

 _There is only myself._

The force of it made him gasp out loud.

When he came down from his high, and saw the evidence of his fantasy washing down the drain, he propped himself up, somewhat shakily on one arm, letting the numbing water from the shower continue to rain down his back and head. For the first time in weeks, his head was clear. And in that clarity he realized how hopeless it was to ignore it any longer. There wasn't anything Tony could actually do about it, but ignoring it had gotten him here, wrung out and bonelessly satisfied, but still wanting more on the floor of his fucking shower, all because of the mere possibility of reciprocation. By the time he'd managed to stand on two shaky legs and try to finish his washing and dry himself off, he'd realized he left his phone down in the lab.

Because he didn't trust himself to not fall down the stairs, he dove under the covers, still naked with the towel on the floor next to him, and tried to sleep.

The next morning, he couldn't even look at the stupid phone, turned it face down, and asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to tell him if he'd gotten any new word from Loki.

He hadn't.

"You only have one text from Thor Odinson, sir."

Tony frowned. "What is it?"

"He says 'I bring you most joyous news, Man of Iron. With our combined efforts, my brother has graduated to house arrest. My mother requests your presence in celebration soon.' How would you like to respond, sir?"

Tony Stark (Iron Man, Avenger, Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist who saved the world on a regular basis, and he who enjoyed kicking major ass while doing so) was for the first time speechless.

* * *

 **A/N: Going to try my best to get another update in this week. Thank you to those who left reviews. I appreciate the feedback. Next chapter will be a little shorter here only because the next chapter will really warrant the necessity of a duplicate longer posting on AO3. If anyone has a step-by-stupid-step how to post a story to AO3 for dummies like me, please PM me. You will have my eternal thanks. Happy Holiday weekend y'all!**


	3. Help me I'm drowning

**A/N: I usually keep my authors notes to a bottom page post, but this chapter deserves an FYI: It gets heavy in this chapter for Tony before it gets better (such is the nature with alcoholism and depression) but it does get better I promise-it just happens in the next chapter so don't kill me yet.**

 **CHAPTER THREE – Help me I'm drowning**

Asgard remained largely unchanged in his long absence. For that, he was strangely satisfied, and comforted. As a child he never truly appreciated her beauty for all the natural fragrance, cleanliness, vibrancy, and strength, because to his limited experience of the nine realms, he could imagine no other kind of existence. As he grew older, that would change slowly over the years, but change and grow he did. He learned of poverty, racism, misogyny, homophobia, and inequality. Most important of all, however, he learned the construction of lies.

Loki sat lounging in a velvet plush reading chair of what had been his childhood chambers, positioned next to an open set of double doors that led to a private balcony. Out on the balcony, his herbs and plants had long either died or gone into hibernation. The first day of his freedom from imprisonment he tended to what he could and purged the rest. His mother had come by after he just finished it, hoping to help him with the very task, but instead had tea brought in and helped him clean his rooms properly, because Odin forbade anyone, including her, from entering Loki's rooms during his imprisonment, even going as far to lock them shut with a complicated dwarven chain lock that required three different keys.

Perhaps the old man had taken Loki at his word that his chambers had its own set of traps and tricks.

All he'd cared about at the time was keeping Thor from breaking something.

Mother and son had dusted off his books and wiped down the shelves and tables while a couple of maids changed the bed sheets. It was Frigga, and Frigga alone who spent his first meal out of captivity with him in his chambers. Thor did not come to visit until the next day. Odin he had not seen since his near-execution. And Loki was content with that.

It was his mother again who forced him to wash, dress, and put himself back together. She offered to cut his hair, but he pushed her off. To cut it would be like the old days. The length reminded him of what present he was in, how far he'd come, clawing his way back from the depths of the purge, the torture, and then the possession. It had been a close thing. In his nightmares he relived it. In his waking hours it was all he could try not to think of. He almost preferred imprisonment to this false freedom, for at least down there away from the prying eyes that mattered, he could take out his anger in secret. Here, if he broke something, it would be harder to conceal for any length of time.

His magic simply did not have that far of a reach while bound. The simple chain that laid so innocently around his neck was enraging, because though Odin demanded it, Frigga allowed it, even after Loki's name had been cleared. Perhaps that was how he'd been brought up from the dungeons so quickly, a deal brokered in secret on his behalf. But he would never know. And he didn't care to know. Because its very presence was galling enough.

It had been a total of seventy-eight hours before he did break something. The first was accidental, but the second and third had been on purpose. By the time Frigga had been told of his destructive behavior and had come to see it herself, there was no evidence left and Loki remained stubbornly aloof. He refused to acknowledge it and she looked on him sadly before leaving him to the slightly larger confines of his new and comfortable prison. That had been three days ago. Since then he'd submerged himself in his old books, refusing even to move for meals when they were delivered and then taken away untouched.

Loki wasn't stupid.

He drank the water.

Even the tea when it was brought in the afternoon.

But food he would not eat.

How could he eat when all he saw in his dreams and memories were the blood, destruction, and pain he'd let himself cause. He'd been a puppet, yes, and though he raged and fought for control the entire time, sometimes so achingly close to getting it back, he had still been the body responsible for all that was wrought in the mad titan's name. He would never speak of it to another soul, but acknowledging that he, Loki, had been used was not an easy thing for the god to admit, even to himself.

He had only felt such humiliation once before, but in the joy that came from that encounter all those months later it made his pain seem insignificant.

His joy…

His little precious ball of light-

Loki's anger surged again, hot and violent.

His book hit the wall opposite his bed with a loud slam.

His ears picked up on Thor's entrance too late. The only thing Loki could do was force his white fingers to slowly release their death grip on the arms of the chair and to recline somewhat more languidly, as Thor stepped around his desk and into Loki's line of vision.

"Bad book," Thor asked, tentatively, and smartly keeping his distance.

Loki huffed laughter devoid of humor. "You know how poor grammar insults me so."

Thor stooped to pick up the book, and Loki watched with interest as his brother showed a bit of care when he noticed the spine was broken. "Mother says you refuse to join us for dinner."

"I seem to remember very clearly being confined to the walls of this room," Loki droned, turning his attention to his seedlings trying to flourish on the balcony. The sun had passed behind the towers and brought with it evening shadow. "Under threat of death, no less. I fail to see the point of this request."

"Neither will you eat here when your meals are brought."

"I must be such an anathema to you."

"You are my brother," Thor said, stepping closer to him, and then offering the book. "Is it so hard to believe that we want the best for you? That we worry?"

Loki looked at the book, then at Thor. "We? Come, Thor. Unravel your veiled motives as you mean to unravel mine."

Thor sighed and dropped the book into Loki's lap. "Father meant only to impress the importance of your obedience, not to-"

"Ah, did he," Loki said, his anger swirling in indignation. "I also seem to remember the sharpness of the axe man's blade, before you swept in to save the day, as you always do. Pray tell, would you have _avenged_ my wrongful death had you not been so fortunate with time? Would you have mourned?-"

"I did mourn you," Thor snapped, continuing quietly after the outburst. " _Once was enough…_ You know father still considers you a-"

Loki then made eye contact, sharp and threatening. " _That_ is _enough_. We will _not_ discuss this."

"Can you not forgive h-"

"Forgiveness," Loki laughed. "Such a construct. And a cheap fallacy. One day, brother, you will awake from such fairy tales, and I will be waiting for you with your own fairy tale: the open arms of a loving brother."

Thor pressed his lips into a line. He was frustrated. He paced. And Loki watched, ready for the next blow with cutting replies guaranteed to set the god off and prove to himself and to Loki the deceit behind such _brotherly affection_ he alleged he still had. "You will ignore our parents," Thor finally said. "Fine. Would you ignore a guest?"

Loki paused. …guest? "What guest?"

"Stark. Mother requested his presence to celebrate your exoneration."

Stark… the mortal. The annoying little iron pest. The plaything of his wretched hours of dark and deep boredom. The distraction from the chaos, inside and out. Perhaps even a temporary balm to the pains of his insanity, if Loki was feeling particularly generous, depending on the day… and the hour.

It felt so beneath him, to narrow his focus on a mortal. But in his need, in his imprisonment, when his fantasies and tricks seemed empty even to himself, he'd had his Midgardian gift, the tiny little device that provided him some contact with another living and somewhat intelligent being (though he'd never admit it to the mortal). Loki knew the moment he'd accepted the phone how dangerous the slope was that he would attempt to traverse, and how many times he would fail to escape its pitfalls. Yet accept the offer, he did. And shun the companionship company he did as well.

Even here, in his limited freedom, his progress, he shunned it.

And still, Stark persisted.

It _all_ bothered Loki: Stark and his self-satisfying aggrandizements, his attempt at wit and humor, his poorly disguised jokes, his inability to privatize his own needs and desires…

For pushing him away, it made the god of lies and mischief feel… _guilty._ And simultaneously offended at being made to feel such. It downright made Loki seethe at the worst of times. And moreover the guilt remained _and_ increased a little each day because of it.

The little device sat oh so innocently on a side table next to the doorway behind Thor. The incessant little green light still blinked with the new notification of unread messages. It had been blinking for the past few days. Loki refused to touch it, less he break it also in a fit of his anger.

"I didn't know you knew the meaning of that word," Loki replied, evenly.

Thor smiled. "She has planned it for tomorrow. Father has agreed to allow you to the dining hall for the duration of the meal, and the gathering of warriors after."

"Has he? You may relay to him my solemn gratitude for his kindness."

Thor narrowed his eyes.

And Loki gave him a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Fair better, brother," Thor said as he exited Loki's rooms. "I will see you on the morrow."

Loki silently watched him go, letting his eyes settle on the little phone. As his thoughts and emotions swirled in an angry torrent, they funneled down onto a singular point of fact. Stark was coming to Asgard. And they would both be in the same room.

How fucking ironic.

* * *

"Sir, I have run all scenarios thirty-seven times and still calculate a ninety-five percent probability that you will encounter Loki Odinson at your dinner later this week."

Tony glared at the numbers on the screen in front of him from behind stubbornly sulky crossed arms. His chin was propped on his crossed arms, which were laid across his table, his back arched half across the table's edge from where he sat on his lab chair with spread legs. "And the probability that Thor will kill me for backing out after saying yes a day before the dinner," he asked.

"Still at eighty-six percent probability," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

Tony groaned loudly and buried his face in his arms. "Why did I say yes? Why did I say yes?"

"I only have the ability to make an educated hypothesis based on your most recent correspondence and behavior, sir."

"Yeah, well, _enlighten_ me, Jarv," Tony snapped, kicking his wheeled chair away and stalking over to an old Mark and detaching the arm with a frustrated yank. "And skip the part where you tell me how many times I've needed to properly fuck something this past week because for you and me that's too much TMI to process."

"Very well," the A.I. responded. "Sexual behavior aside, your correspondence with Loki Odinson has grown dependent and suggestive over the past month, however, within the past week it has decreased in numbers with little explanation, accounting for possible confusion and-"

"Yeah, mixed signals, I get it."

It was all true. The last text Tony had gotten from the god was almost a week old. And the last bit of info Tony had gotten from Thor was that Loki had been settling into his old rooms in Asgard. If the guy was just sitting in his rooms all day and night, why the sudden radio silence? It very obviously had to be related to their last set of texts, which Tony definitely hadn't gone over in private again and again and again. And it wasn't as if Loki didn't know what he was throwing back at Tony with that evil little arrangement of letters either. But it just made little to no sense to not get anything back for _days_.

Unless the god regretted it…

Tony had sent a few texts of his own to test the waters and see.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Heard you got sprung, jailbird._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _That was totally not an innuendo btw._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Okay maybe it was._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Or only if you wanted it to be._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _All good in the land of Space Vikings?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Should I expect an autobiography to top the NY Times Bestsellers list soon?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _You probably don't know what that is…_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Your evil ego will be happy to know George R. R. Martin is publishing a new book…_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Spoiler alert: it's a prequel._

But nothing.

He'd checked the phone, tested it even, and found to his frustration that it was still functioning at optimal capacity.

Tony couldn't make Loki talk to him, or text him back, he just wished the god _would_.

Maybe Tony was being a little desperate. Maybe he was being a LOT desperate for their…whatever it was they had to continue. Maybe that was part of the problem. If Tony couldn't describe what this thing between them was, he doubted Loki could or would even waste the energy trying to figure it out either. On one hand, Tony felt smug that he'd made such an uncomfortable puzzle for the god to solve. And on the other hand, Tony felt bad, because it wasn't as if he was blameless himself. So how was he supposed to apologize for potentially weirding the god out, when Tony was probably one of his only contacts on that phone he'd given him? To be fair he only programmed two contacts into it: his own and Thor's.

Last week, Tony had been been angry, frustrated, and on top of that _sexually_ frustrated. This week he was, dare he even give it its actual name, _mopey_. Fucking moping was what Tony god damn Stark was doing and he god damn knew it but fuck all if he knew what to do _about_ it because tomorrow he was supposed to attend some grand Viking dinner and be in the same fucking room as this asshole and somehow _not_ get a hard-on and _not_ jump him and make an ass of himself or cause some intergalactic political incident.

 _Fuck_.

He hadn't felt this lost since college-which was practically high school for him, but that was beyond the point-

"Incoming call from Pepper Potts," J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted.

Trying to pry two pieces of outer armor apart, Tony accidentally pinched his finger, immediately yanking it out and shaking his hand with a pained grunt. " _What?_ " he answered when the call connected and the video popped up on screen.

"Well hello to you too," Pepper replied with a raised eyebrow. "I guess you don't want to hear about your soaring sales on the new Stark phone?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Usually you guys send me an email."

"Usually you read your emails."

"Touché," he said, pushing the offending arm piece away. "Out with it, why did you really call, Pep? That level of mundaneness is below your pay grade."

"Well…" she hesitated. "You remember when we cleaned out Obadiah's old office and threw everything into storage?"

"Yeah… And I'm liking this less the more you go on, so lets just get to the point."

"Paul found a box the movers never saw. It was shoved in some kind of compartment beneath the floor next to the desk. It's a dark rug, so I guess we just never saw it since the edges practically disappear. I just sent Happy over with a box of stuff that I think is yours. There was some other sensitive information in there, but I've already had that sent over to be destroyed."

Tony frowned. "What kind of stuff?"

"Weirdly enough, duplicate blueprints for old Stark weapons. We have the originals, but for whatever reason he had multiple copies in paper format."

"Maybe he was trying to sell them on the side," he guessed. "You know Obi was an opportunist."

"In the worst way," Pepper agreed.

Tony frowned and rubbed at an itchy eye. "You said that box had stuff of mine in it?"

"Yeah," Pepper said with a perplexed look. "Lots of old notebooks and papers and some folders. Looks like the bulk of it was from your college days. I don't know how he got a hold of it, but all of it looks like its yours, so you should go through it and see if you want to keep anything."

"Sounds like a boatload of fun. If only there was a bottle of scotch in there."

"That would end well," Pepper scoffed.

"Hey, you'd be proud of me. I haven't had one in a week. That's a lot of self-restraint."

"I am proud," Pepper said with a smile. "Turn it into two weeks straight and I'll throw you a party with balloon animals."

An hour later, Happy descended the stairs to the lab and dropped the dusty box off with only a few sneezes. "'Ere you go, boss."

Tony tossed a tissue box at Happy, who caught it with a grateful groan. "You need a Claritin before you go?"

"Uh-uh," Happy said, shaking his stuffy head, and loudly blowing beautiful snot rockets out of his nose. "Um good!"

"Take the rest of the day off, champ," Tony said with sympathy. "Your allergies are hereby knighted for their efforts."

Happy gave him a look before leaving, throwing out a miserable "Funny," on his way.

The contents of the mysterious box remained a secret until after a filling take-out dinner of carbonara that made him miss his mom's cooking. The last time she'd made it for him was on his sixteenth birthday, only months before she'd been killed. He wanted a glass of wine so bad, but he'd held off, promising himself that if the contents of the box were _that_ bad then he'd just get fucking wasted and call it a day. He had the whole morning tomorrow to get over the hangover, so it could work. It didn't make pulling the box up from the lab any easier, nor sitting down with it in the living room.

Tony sighed.

His college days at MIT had been blighted by his parents' deaths. It hadn't been all bad, but it was hard for him to look back on those times with much fondness. He didn't _have_ to go through this box. He was a multi-billionaire. He could just throw it in storage with the rest or have it destroyed. But Tony was tired of ignoring his problems. Ignoring the weapons his company made and sold to terrorists nearly cost him his livelihood. The state of his fractured friendship and partnership with Obadiah nearly cost him everything. His alcoholism and lifestyle as a superhero had cost him Pepper. And nearly Rhodey. Tony could only deal with one thing at a time, and if he was going to tackle the booze properly, then he needed to man up and get over his goddamn fears and insecurities and sort through this one freaking box.

He pushed the voice of his father to the back of his head and opened the lid of the dusty box.

Maybe he should snap a picture of this and send it to his old therapist as a little fuck you.

True to Pepper's word, it was filled objects and the musty smell of his college days. On top was a beat up MIT day planner that Tony recognized as his own. He reached in and plucked it from its place. Flipping through the pages haphazardly, he wasn't surprised to find something fall out and flap to the floor. It was an old polaroid.

Tony snorted as he reached down to grab it.

Oh God, what kind of evidence from the stone ages of technology did that picture hold-

He froze when he turned it over.

Liam…

His heart clenched with a spike of long forgotten pain.

Tony hadn't seen his face in so long. He was ashamed to admit that he'd forgotten what the boy looked like, and forgotten how much he missed those dark brown curls and freckles. Debbie, a mutual friend of theirs from MIT, had snapped the picture and given it to Tony years later. At the time, it hurt so much to look at it that he eventually shoved it in his planner to forget it ever existed-too much of a coward to actually destroy it.

Granted Tony had been sixteen and Liam almost nineteen (so the levels of illegal had definitely been there), but it hadn't been that long since the funeral of his parents that it happened outside a frat party, and Tony had been in such desperate need to feel something. So when the Irish boy went to kiss the side of his face as a joke, to teach Americans how to get over their own awkwardness with European greetings, it felt so natural to just turn and meet his lips with his own. Liam had stared at him in surprise for a few moments long enough to make Tony begin to regret it, but then Liam put his Guinness down and wordlessly gave him a real kiss. It didn't end up being taken back to either of their dorm rooms, nor did it stay outside the frat party either.

Tony did remember having several drinks that night, so his memory of the kiss was a little fuzzy around the edges, but he did remember Liam making him walk off all the alcohol he'd had until 5AM, after one of the most amazing make-out sessions he'd ever had. It blew the first one with Becky Young right out of the water. And the surge of righteousness at knowing his father would have been furious at him made it _all the better._ The next morning after his classes, and his first real hangover, he'd run into the boy at the library. Liam asked him if he remembered the walking. Tony did. Then Liam asked if he remembered the kissing. Tony did. Liam tried to hide a smile from him but did a poor job of it. It made Tony feel warm inside to see it.

After that they'd developed some habits. They'd meet in Liam's room to listen to records. They'd meet in Tony's room to share snacks and attempt to help Liam with his bioengineering homework. But mostly, they'd get distracted and end up in bed with each other. Liam had taught him what a blowjob was and that despite how weird and gross it sounded, how fucking amazing it felt to have his prostate touched.

Looking back on it, Tony knew it had all happened very fast, but at the time it felt so right he didn't really care what anyone else thought. Until it came to Obadiah. In the wake of his parents deaths Obi had tried to fill that fatherly void for him, and Tony needed some kind or form of approval from someone. Obadiah had taken the news of Liam better than Tony feared he would. He'd actually closed the door to his office and took the other empty seat beside Tony in front of his desk.

"Were you afraid of telling me this," Obadiah asked, giving Tony his full attention.

Tony just shrugged.

"Tony," he chided, gently. "I don't ever want you to be afraid of telling me things. Okay? I'm here for you. Whenever you need me and whatever you need me for, got it?"

Tony nodded. Obi laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"You do know you need to be careful, right," Obi asked him quietly.

"I know," Tony responded automatically. "It's not like we're-"

Obi held his hand up. "I don't need to know those details. I've got your back, kiddo. No matter what you do. But you've got to work with me a little bit, okay?"

Tony had been confused. "What do you mean?"

"If this comes out about you," Obi started. "And him, it would affect the company. The board doesn't really like surprises like that."

It had been a different generation when Tony and Liam were young. He knew that now. But at the time he just didn't want to understand it. He remembered being angry at Obi for a while after that, thinking he was a hypocrite despite all the support he'd pledged. Talking to Liam about it wouldn't have ended well, but because he didn't talk about those fears and insecurities he was forced to deal with at sixteen, he was lashing out in other ways, sometimes even at Liam for the smallest and stupidest of things. And bless the boy, every time Tony did Liam would forgive him.

Liam was the one person in his life who didn't make him feel guilty about anything, and actually went out of his way to make sure Tony was coping properly with his parents deaths. Sure Obi had asked time and again, but it wasn't the same as when Liam dragged him out for a walk and a beer at sunset along the waterfront of MIT's campus (because going into Cambridge or even Boston proper was out of the question given that every journalist knew Tony's face at sixteen). When the streetlights started to come on they'd steal quick kisses, both thrilled at being out in public, and got a few glances here and there, but never got in real trouble for it.

There had been several of those exact kind of outings, and it was exactly what their last time together had been. Because the next morning, after pulling an all-nighter for an asinine history final, as Tony was walking alongside the sidewalk next to the international dorm, he noticed campus police, state police, and a medical examiner. He'd been frozen to the spot just like a bunch of other older students. They were whispering to each other. No one knew what happened, but someone said someone else had died of natural causes.

But who fucking died of natural causes before the age of twenty-three?

Tony kept asking over and over who it was, but no one knew. A few reporters had even snuck on campus and snapped a few pictures. Tony knew they weren't there for him, but his being there wouldn't have been good either. But before he could think better of his position, they brought the body out. The breath caught in his lungs. He could see it over and over, the freckled hand that fell out from beneath the white sheet.

That pattern of freckles he knew so intimately well-

Tony slammed the picture face down on the coffee table, and took a few moments to take some deep breaths; He was _not_ going to have a fucking panic attack over this. Rubbing both hands down his face, Tony steeled himself to sift through the rest of the box.

Distract.

Find something else.

Inside were a few notebooks, a bunch of folders, and some loose papers. He pulled a notebook out and opened it up, brow creasing in confusion at the sight of the handwriting that wasn't his own. These were… these were _Liam's_ bioengineering notes. Not Tony's. He recognized his own scrawl right next to Liam's as he ran the dates of the study sessions through his rusty memories. This had been months before he died.

Why would Obi have these?

There was a manila envelope: There were pictures that Tony had never seen before. Pictures of him and Liam walking to class. Pictures of them eating on the campus lawn. Pictures of them… in Tony's dorm room studying. Kissing. Touching each other. On top of each other… _"I don't need to know those details," Obi said to him._

Had Obi confiscated these from a newspaper? Had someone tried to run a story about them? Tony swore up and down he'd been careful back then to avoid journalists. He supposed not…but there was something about the pictures that made him feel like they hadn't been snapped by a journalist. It was as if whoever took the photos cared more about where they were instead of _what_ they were doing…

Additionally inside the box was a crinkled and yellowed copy of a class schedule. And it wasn't Tony's. He never took Intro to Theatre… _"Maybe I can sneak you backstage when they cast me in 42_ _nd_ _street," Liam joked. "I could use a dresser for a couple of quick changes."_

The newspaper article about Liam's sudden death… _"Sometimes these things just happen," Obi said gently with Tony in his arms, rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down his back. "Sleep Apnea's a real thing. I'm sorry, Tony."_

Tony instantly got sick to his stomach when he saw what lay forgotten at the bottom of the box: his mother's catholic medal… _"If you're trying to convert me," Liam whispered in his ear, after Tony placed the precious medal around his neck. "You're a wee bit late 'cause I'm already burning." Liam tenderly kissed the side of his face, then pulled away to look at him. "I'll keep it safe for you. Won't take it off for nothing. I promise."_

Someone had taken it from his body… but how did it end up here? Wouldn't it have been buried with him? Wouldn't a medical examiner have known better?

A copy of the police report. "Call received from Resident Assistant at MIT dormitory requesting emergency response for unresponsive student. RA reported finding no light underneath the door in the early hours of December the 10th… _"Don't you laugh at me," Liam threatened. "Dark is serious business. Never sleep with it off. Haven't since I was a babe. I'll buy you a sleep cover fer yer eyes if you want but that lamp is staying on, Stark."_

" _Sshhit,_ " he cursed, stumbling away from the box and its contents and fisting his hands in his hair, falling to his knees on the unforgiving marble. "Oh God! No…no, no, no!"

That…that _**fucking bastard**_ had-had _**lied**_ and fucking… **killed** him!- _"I don't ever want you to be afraid of telling me things. Okay," Obi asked._

That _**piece of shit**_ had taken Liam away from him-why-why- **why?!** \- _"The board doesn't really like surprises like that," Obi said._

Tony had nightmares for years about Liam. God. He'd even gone and confessed the nightmares to Liam's fucking _**murderer**_.

It was his fault.

It was Tony's fucking fault that Liam was dead.

And it fucking **hurt** -even all these years later.

Because Liam was another person to add to Tony's list…

"Oh fuck," Tony shakily cursed, getting to his feet and heading straight for the locked bar.

"Per protocol, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. tried to interrupt. "I will be forced to notify Ms. Potts or Colonel Rhodes if you attempt access to-"

Poor J.A.R.V.I.S. tried.

But Tony had made quick work of hacking the A.I.s security walls to shut him all down but for simple security footage. The sudden silence was deafening. He felt a like a shit afterwards, guilty for doing it to his friend, because this was exactly what alcoholism did. Tony knew it. It grabbed you by the hair at the back of your head, yanked, and made you believe that all you needed to make the panic and the pain go away was the release of just a few drinks.

Or several.

He went to a utility closet near the lab stairs, pulled out a crow bar, and broke open the cabinet underneath the bar with a loud crack and splintering of expensive wood. He dropped the crow bar with an even louder clang and reached in to pull out three bottles of Johnnie Walker Black. He stumbled to his knees near the edge of the roof, two of the bottles tipping over, but still sealed, saving the precious liquor within. Tony hadn't realized that he had a death grip on the third bottle as he positioned himself against the railing and the open air beyond.

And he definitely hadn't realized he'd already opened the first bottle and gulped down just less than a quarter of its contents in one draw. He gasped and panted, feeling that evil relief begin to take over his body. He leaned back and tipped his head up to the night sky, tears filling and spilling from his eyes.

"God, I'm so fucking sorry," he said, hoping somewhere Liam could hear him.

He couldn't even promise to make Obi pay for what he did because Obadiah was already dead.

Wiping at the tears and snot Tony pulled his knees up to his chest to conserve some kind of warmth. He was trembling, which meant he had to be cold. Even though it was the dead heat of summer. Or maybe that was the shock. Whichever it actually was, it left him feeling exposed and raw and like that scared little child again.

Death followed Tony wherever he went.

The scorching burn of the whiskey down his throat never felt so good.

* * *

Loki's bedroom was a rather small part of his rooms, all things considered. There was space enough for a large bed, two bedside tables, a long low bookcase stuffed with ledgers and books and papers, and a rune-carved wooden chest at the foot of his bed. His weapons had once adorned the walls above his bookcase on display hooks and shelves, but their absence now made the wall a bare skeleton devoid of its prior history. Instead of the little stands for his daggers and space for his armor, there was a cushioned chair brought in by his mother and some of his equipment from his study, which he had yet to deserve access to.

He exited the walk in closet next to the entrance for the adjacent bathroom in a soft pair of back sleeping pants and a loose dark grey three-quarter sleeved open tunic. He left the ties undone, the shirt more like a robe than anything, but the feel of it was familiar, and it had been a gift… from his first wife. The green embroidery around the collar and the hem had held well over the past several hundred years. Despite its resilience, Loki would not think of her.

He did not retire to bed, but propped himself up on pillows on a window box seat to watch Asgard beneath him. Within another hour, lights would start to flicker out one by one, families returning to their homes to rest for the next workday. In guest chambers, Stark would have a different view. It would be higher. He would be better able to see the entire expanse of the gardens.

Loki assumed he may enjoy that.

Or perhaps he would be enthralled by the architecture and defense technologies instead.

Material creature that Stark was…

Loki wondered what he was even supposed to say to the mortal. He had an idea of what he would be expected to say, and say it he would to appease his mother, but if Stark tried to engage him in conversation Loki was certain it would frustrate them both. He didn't want to speak to the mortal. He didn't want to dine with him. He didn't want to see him.

None of this was on Loki's terms and that was what angered him the most-

The phone made a noise: one new notification.

Loki rolled his eyes. It was probably another text. Of course Stark would try to text him again the night before-

A second notification.

He let out a long and low growl, glaring at the wall and refusing to acknowledge the little thing because he would not entertain this selfish constant need for-

A third.

 _A third?!_

Loki cursed, and snatched the device from the floor, fully intending to send it flying right out the window. But before Loki could give in to the urge, he found the screen lit up on its own, displaying the three new texts from Stark himself.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Welp, nine voicemails later on a Friday night and you're my last shot._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _You busy?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _Please don't be busy…_

More than a little annoyed, Loki took a few calming breaths, weighed the consequences (for it wasn't as if he would be sleeping any time soon anyway), and reluctantly typed out a response.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Should I be offended at not being_ _last_ _on your list of contacts?_

Damn it all, Loki was growing soft… he'd have to ensure Stark still feared him tomorrow.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _You are._

Loki snorted in disbelief.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Oh good._

A few minutes later:

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _…_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Well?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Stark, if you think I will speak first you have apparently lost what remained of your sanity._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron man):**_ _You have no idea how happy that makes me._

Loki raised a curious eyebrow.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Ah. Rest assured I still think you the tiny insect you are, mortal._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Was that it?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Have you finally realized your insignificance in the vast cosmos?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Something like that._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _But dn't worry._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Depression and me r old buds._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Alcohol 2._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Bit of a Freebird kind of thing_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _*Firewall_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _**Threesome_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Nevermind-bad ref anywy._

Of course the Midgardian idiot was drunk. Why he was drunk on the eve of his first visit to Asgard however Loki could not immediately surmise. He had a theory, but he was not certain whether to be bothered or amused by it.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _I can smell the drink from here…_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _No you can_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Ah, yes. That was pungent._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Was tha evn mean?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _It means you should probably reconsider your life choices._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _And your grammar._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Theres the whole point of drnking FYI._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Solves life problems_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Just not the headaches_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Or swims_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _*swimming thing_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _You know what I mean!_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Drinking yourself to death would be disappointingly reductive given your ego is the size of Asgard and Midgard put together._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Whatever idiot idea you have in that tiny brain of yours is literally that small, Stark._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Says you._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What is that supposed to mean?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Thought you were the one with all the answers, Mr. god_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Omnipotence is sadly not one of my highly sought after skills._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Damn. Could use a fortunately tales._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Forward telephone._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _God fuck._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Fortune! Teller!_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Jesus._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Fucking auto correct._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _What was that about alcohol consumption again?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Har har._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _But seriously, know any?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _*Fortune Tellers._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _The only seers I know of reside in Vanaheim. And they are notoriously difficult when one attempts to obtain a straight answer._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Sounds like you._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Our tutor as children was a Vanir. I was clearly the better student._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Close enough. Know whether I end up dying alone and miserable in a few years?_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Given your avenging proclivities I could hazard a guess, but one can never say for certain._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _You do fly around in your metal suit of armor after all._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _And red is an abysmal color for subterfuge._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Figured good to know._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Just in case._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Not like it matters._

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _In the case of what, Stark?_

Some more time went by. Loki watched as Stark started typing his response, stopped, started again, stopped again for a longer while, then finally sent one through.

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Fucking rails._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Don't hire NY contractors._

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _They suck._

Loki stared at the last three texts in confusion. Rails? Contractors? A small chill went up his spine when he remembered one of the first texts Stark had ever sent him… _Thanks for destroying my tower, asshole…_

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Stark. Where are you?_

 _ **Stark (Freaking Iron Man):**_ _Roof._

Loki's eyes widened. _That_ _ **fucking**_ _idiot!_

Barely a second went by after receiving the chilling one-worded message before he was calling Stark's phone. It rang a few times before an annoying sound blared. Loki tried calling again and was already moving before the _I'm sorry, this number is not currently in service. Please hang up and try your call again_ could finish. He threw on his cloak and angrily stuffed a few vials into his pockets before slipping from his chambers and down the walls from his balcony.

If that stupid mortal actually fell off his own damned tower Loki was making a special trip to Hel just to take ownership for his punishment. Oh how Loki would gloat and lash his ears for an eternity for being so colossally _moronic_. He expected such behavior from his own brother, not Stark. Loki remembered the secret passages, the nooks and crannies along the way to stop and wait for guards to pass on their nightly patrols. Along the way Loki had barely enough time to send out a short reply.

 _ **Loki (Reindeer Games):**_ _Stay where you are or so help me, Stark, you will rue this night…_

Loki received no response.

* * *

 **A/N: This entire chapter was a motherfucking BEAR to write. I went back and forth for a long time on whether or not to split it into two chapters because of the sheer length and whether the structure could handle it, and I ultimately had to separate it. I blame these complicated idiots, so, it's not entirely my fault. *** **Loki gives me the death stare** *** Uh-huh. Totally your fault, bud. Loki is totally a chapter hog. Chapter four will be up shortly. I kind of got ahead of myself with the posts on AO3 and am just getting around to updating it here. So, double present! Let me know as always what you think!**


	4. Fourth time's the charm

**CHAPTER FOUR – Fourth time's the charm**

The last time Loki had walked the shimmering rainbow of the Bifrost it had led to his near destruction. As a boy he'd been drawn to its power, its promise of all the places it could take him and the wonders it could afford him. Now was predictably no different, but instead of the thrill he felt no small amount of trepidation. A little part of him liked to believe he could get away with this treachery, however unlikely. But of all beings in the nine realms the one person he would not lie to was himself.

In the meanwhile it certainly helped to not give pause to think of the consequences.

Perhaps this was how Thor felt on a daily basis…

In the short term, Loki knew the force of the Bifrost would free his magic, give him the chance to breathe freely, help Stark if needed. But it would also leave an imprint upon Midgard and the Bifrost itself, inevitably escaping back to Asgard, leaving indisputable proof of his disobedience. Given the extenuating circumstances, the logical outcome would ideally include forgiveness for the very obviously needed intervention. But nothing about life was logical.

Let Odin accuse and rage and rain down his fury.

Loki would not tread upon the minefield of the old man's paranoia like a fainthearted boy.

He would do it with purpose.

However frustrating said purpose was…

"Do you seek so soon to return to the dark of Asgard's dungeons," Heimdall asked him, without turning around. "My prince."

"I do not seek it," Loki said, stepping into the golden chamber. "But if that is to be my punishment, then I will gladly accept it. Look upon Midgard for me. Where is Stark?"

"The man of Iron," the gatekeeper asked, brow creasing as he looked afar. "Why would you concern yourself with-"

He rolled his eyes. "Just humor me…"

Out of curiosity alone, Loki suspected, Heimdall did as requested, turning his gaze afar and frowning upon the discovery. "He sits upon the edge of his tower, swaying in the wind, and very drunk."

Loki sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned around to gather himself. "Open the gateway."

"The Allfather will rescind your freedom when he discovers you've broken your bond," Heimdall warned. "You cannot leave Asgard-"

"Yes, well, I was forbidden from leaving my rooms and here I stand. He will rescind it regardless of what I do now. It is and has been simply a matter of time."

Heimdall did not look impressed, but did not dismiss Loki either. "If you are determined, I cannot stop you. But I would ask that you answer me one question."

The Norns were truly trying his patience this day… "Ask it."

"Is Anthony Stark not a friend of Thor's?"

"Stark is a friend of Asgard, however recent. Ask me your true question, gatekeeper."

"Did you not once believe mortals were beneath us?"

Loki smiled slowly. "I once believed the Allfather to be a just and fair ruler."

Heimdall looked upon him darkly. "That is treason."

"So will be this act of kindness. I would love for nothing more than to debate pragmatics, but my time appears short. If you would be so kind in turn…"

Heimdall gave him a disapproving look as he reluctantly opened the gateway. "I will not lie for you. Dawn will come to Asgard before it comes to Midgard. Try to remember that."

"I will repay you for this," Loki promised before venturing forth.

"No," Heimdall sighed. "You won't."

Loki felt it the moment the force of the Bifrost broke through the chain holding his magic dormant. He distantly heard the chain around his neck break and fall to the ground beneath him. The first breath he took was sweet. He smiled wide at the way his magic spun and stretched and _sang_. It had been too long since it was so free and unhindered. The power made him feel whole again, so much more himself, in control of his body and too-often chaotic mind. It would take time for his reserves to fill properly again, but the breaking of the dam had already been done. Perhaps in a few hours he would have enough to store away for the inevitable punishment when he returned.

But that was not for now.

He opened his eyes and found himself on Stark's Tower. It was night on Midgard. There was a warm and humid blustery wind. In the distance were stationary storms, intent on raining themselves out though with no promise of relief as far as the moisture in the air promised. Ahead of him was the mortal in question, leaned precariously across and over a part of railing that had not yet detached from the ground. In his hand was a glass bottle. By his feet was another, but empty. The man looked the subject of misery, which was a far cry from the last time the mortal dared look upon him. Loki could still remember the smug smile and the silent gloating of victory with his new compatriots.

There was no denying this sight was somewhat vindicating, to see the mortal brought so low, but more curious was to what had been the cause? And typically when Loki got to the root of a problem, it inevitably softened his approach. Whether Stark would deserve it or not would be the second part of the problem.

Loki rose to his feet silently and slowly approached. Upon closer inspection, Stark's eyes were bloodshot and glassy. He was staring down at the city, but Loki got the impression the man wasn't interested in all the life beneath him. "You stupid mortal," Loki breathed. "Are you actively trying to kill yourself?"

"Depends," Stark droned without turning around. "You gonna try to kill me first? I'll race you."

"It would be pitifully easy in your position," Loki said sitting down next to him. As soon as Stark made eye contact, he flinched away on instinct, a portion of the railing breaking away and nearly taking the man over the edge with it, but Loki grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Loki sighed heavily and gave Stark an unimpressed look, who just seemed clueless and confused about everything. "Letting you drunkenly fall off your own tower would be so tempting, Stark. Just remember I chose not to."

Stark fixed his full attention on the god then, blinking furiously and visibly trying to pull himself together despite his inebriation. "You're… you're…"

Loki raised an impatient eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Here?"

"Obviously. You didn't answer your phone."

"Yeah, well. Dropped it. Next model's almost done though," he said lifting the bottle to his lips. "Maybe I'll just keep it for myself."

Loki snatched the bottle of amber liquid out of Stark's hands and measured the small remainder before smelling it for its potency. "How much of this have you had?"

"That bottle, specifically? Kin'of obvious, isn't it?"

"Norns," Loki groused after an eye roll, tossing the near empty bottle over the edge. The bottle fell from the tower, spilling the remainder of its amber liquid as it descended. And Loki couldn't care less. But Stark did.

"Oh, come on," he complained, turning and daring to look at Loki with a sour attitude. "Wreck my tower, toss the booze… god of tricks and chaos'n whatever else, my ass. You're no fun."

Loki watched, slightly amused, as the mortal tried to stand and ended up nearly face-planting into the concrete. Rather than attempt to stand again, Stark chose to crawl on all fours toward the door. "Oh good," the god drawled, getting to his own feet and following behind. "You've decided to move indoors and away from a fifteen hundred foot drop. I can see my positive influence already working on that slugged brain of yours."

"Like you care," Stark muttered. "'maginary asshole."

"Yes, my breaking of Odin's law and risking re-imprisonment over concern for your drunken welfare is indeed me **not** caring."

Once inside, Loki reached down and mercilessly pulled the mortal to his feet, pausing only to hold him long enough to regain his sense of equilibrium. Thankfully, though Stark looked as if he was about to be sick, he did not end up purging the contents of his stomach. More surprising, however, was that Stark shook off Loki's help and stumbled over to the bar.

"And where do you think you are going," he asked, words laced with threat of bodily harm.

Stark didn't even turn around as he began reaching into the shelves beneath the counter. "You want anything?-"

"Yes, actually," Loki hissed, grabbing the man by the collar and yanking him along the hallway toward where he assumed the bedroom was. "You in your bed."

"I mean, wasn't the first thing on my mind, but if you want to, sure. M'up for anything."

Loki stopped and frowned down at the mortal before rolling his eyes. " _Please._ "

Stark frowned. "What?"

"You're as insufferable as Thor when he drinks. Move."

"Your brother makes passes at that ass too?"

"If he ever did, he would have had his throat slit faster than he could say one word."

Norns, how many rooms did this idiot have?

"So what about me? S'a nice ass. You work out?-"

Loki growled and had him shoved up against a wall in less than a second. "Are you _trying_ to be a nuisance?"

"S'it working," he asked with a lazy smirk.

Loki leaned in with a deadly glare. "If I wanted to I could wipe that smirk off your face and make you _beg_ for nothing else. _Anthony_."

With a small bit of satisfaction, Loki saw the mortal's eyes dilate in desire. It was nice to see such a reaction after his games with the mortal over the past few weeks. The lust radiated off the man like sweet perfume. And it wasn't as if Stark was a hard man to look upon.

"Not like I haven't th-ah… well, you…um…Hm… how drunk am I? You're not really here, right?"

"I wish I wasn't," Loki said, narrowing his eyes and hauling the stumbling mortal along by his collar. "Come, child."

"Whs'a buzzkill."

Finally.

Loki should have known the biggest room in the tower would have been Stark's. The bed was a slightly larger than Loki's own in Asgard, and was made with the perfect creases of a servant. Most Midgardians had less than two hundred square meters to call their own, while this one had an entire tower and Norns knew what else.

"It was intended to be, you dunce," he chided. "Now, sit."

As Stark was pushed down to sit on his bed, Loki pulled out a vial from the pocket of his cloak, threw said cloak off, and deposited it on the corner of the bed before uncorking the vial and shoving it into the man's hand. Stark stared at it, then back at Loki who just rolled his eyes.

"You have two choices," the god explained. "Drink it of your own volition or I will make you. And _preferably_ _before_ you die of alcohol poisoning…"

To his credit, Stark did drink the potion after an uncoordinated shrug, where he almost spilled the damned potion, before Loki kept him from doing so. The man nearly gagged, but Loki didn't let him not finish it, biting out a " _All_ of it," as if Stark were a child. To be fair, the mixture was awful, but it was only effective in a full dose. Loki learned that the hard way when he was a boy who had just come of age.

Frigga had not been happy with him at the time, any motherly affection glaringly absent.

Stark groaned loudly, falling onto his back. "This is how you're gonna kill me, right? Poison?"

Loki rolled his eyes and just turned his back on the mortal in search of extra pillows in what he supposed was the master closet. "Be gladdened I consider the method too boring."

Finding the pillows did not take long, and he returned to shove a few against the headboard before hauling Stark up against them.

"Stop that… too much move…ugh…the hell," Stark whined and complained.

Then, Loki moved to the bathroom, happy to find an empty drinking glass on the counter. "You will want to make yourself comfortable," he said, filling it with cool water from the faucet.

"Why?"

"Because if this mixture is unpleasant enough for me," Loki warned. "It will be most unpleasant for you." Loki left out his concern that it might kill the poor man, but the god would try his utmost to ensure that did not happen.

* * *

Warmth. Heat. Sweat.

There was a bowl with water in it on his bedside table. Water was dripping, being squeezed, out of a washcloth, into it. Into the bowl. Loud. Water was loud.

The washcloth-must have been-cool and wet-shit, he needed more of that-was being pressed to the side of his face and neck. He made a noise. He tried to talk, but found the thought of trying to make his mouth form words too tiring. Fever, he realized. Damn. Sleep would have been nice. But the heat was so distracting. Suffocating. Almost.

A muffled voice. Or maybe softly speaking, "…should be happy for the…my mother left me to…last time this happened."

The coolness disappeared. He reached for it blindly. When had he closed his eyes? Something grabbed his wrist and pinned it to his stomach. Clothed stomach. Body heat against body heat. Too hot.

The voice again. Something like calm down. But he could barely take a breath in because it was so fucking hot. He grabbed at his shirt and tried to pull. The coolness was back, but not where he needed it most. He heard himself curse. Other words. Other words would better. Shit. Brain melting. Something was dripping down his face and chest and he couldn't fucking-

A long-suffered sigh.

Then he was being manhandled-out of his shirt-yes! He groaned. Cooler. Marginally, but much better. Oh and cool wet on his chest. On his chest, his neck, under his arms?-He didn't care. The cool wet was better than the hot wet.

Was that wheezing his own breathing? Maybe that was why his lungs felt like they were burning. Not enough air. Not enough cool air. Hot air never felt like real air. It was either too humid or too dry-

The cave. He was in the desert. That made sense, didn't it? It was dark. Someone was taking care of him.

"Yinsen…?"

Yinsen couldn't breathe either. Tony had left him to choke and die on his own blood. This was hell then-hell was a place where you couldn't breathe.

His hand was being grabbed again, pulled, placed against a cool smoothness. Underneath it was a beating. It expanded and retracted-

"Breathe, Stark. Follow my breaths."

He tried. He really tried. He thought they had a chance. The both of them. Tony had his blood on his hands. On his chest. Dripping down his face. Terror electrified his blood. Made it boil.

Then there were cool hands on either side of his face and neck. "Relax," Loki whispered. "Let it in."

Did Tony know what that meant? He wasn't sure, but sure. Wait… Loki had never been with him in the desert.

He wasn't in the mountains of Afghanistan. It wasn't that hot. And icy coldness started to enter his body from everywhere, cool him down, make him gulp at every ounce of air he could drag into his tired lungs.

"Good. Now lift your head up."

It wasn't until the vocal command of "Drink," that he realized how thirsty he was. Tony could have swallowed a lake and still felt thirsty. He lost count of how many glasses of water Loki pressed to his lips and made him empty. Distantly he knew if he had too much water he'd just get sick and throw it all up. Rhodey had told him that when they plucked him from the desert back then.

But this time he didn't feel sick.

Just more thirsty.

And then the shaking started. Shivers turned to trembling, and then to full-bodied and painful contorting. He gasped and moaned as his muscles twisted and tightened to the impossible, forcing tears from his eyes no matter how hard he tried to keep them in. God it _fucking_ hurt!

"Just breathe. Let it pass."

He couldn't.

Why did it hurt so much? If he bore the entirety of it would it give him Yinsen or Liam back? There was no denying he deserved it. All he brought others was pain, so karma could just have her fucking way with him because this was a long time coming. Maybe he should have been happy that Loki was so strong that Tony couldn't escape his arms, because it felt like all his anxieties and depressing thoughts were actually materializing and trying to rip their way out of his body, right through his skin. Tony was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, trying to wrap his head around the torrent inside of him, trying to gain some modicum of control over his body, and failing miserably.

Then he opened his eyes and the pain dulled with the blood-chilling sight that greeted him.

At the foot of the bed sat his Irish lover, exactly the same from the last time Tony had seen him. But instead of his typical half smile, Liam was staring at him with a completely emotionless face, pale skin, and dead eyes. Tony stared in disbelief. Liam looked so fucking real. Was he hallucinating? Was this his reward for all the pain he had to endure? Or was this part of it?

"Don't waste yer life," Liam said.

"Li-," he whispered, tears spilling freely. "Liam…"

"Don't waste it," the ghost repeated, unmoved.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, crying openly. "I'm so sorry-I didn't know-I…"

"Stark," Loki said, next to his ear. "Whatever you are seeing isn't real."

Not real.

Not real?

Tony gasped, squeezed his eyes shut, and held onto the god's arm tighter to ground himself. The potion. That must have been why, but…it was just so _**cruel**_ -

"Wh-What the h-hell is in that stuff?"

"Sap from a life-giving tree," Loki replied. "By itself it would kill you. But when mixed with the correct ether it traps and expels threats to the body and soul. I may have forgotten to mention the voracity of the purging side effects."

"I think I'd rather puke my brains out from the worlds worst hangover."

"You may yet."

"Oh great," he said, starting to laugh hysterically. There was a hand in his hair, combing through the sweaty tresses. "Is he still there?"

"I can't tell you that."

Tony didn't want to remember Liam this way. He wanted to remember him as he was in that picture, full of life, happy, smiling. Perfect. This Liam was a lie. He knew that. It didn't make opening his eyes to confront it any easier, but he reached down inside of himself and did it to prove a point. He was not going to let whatever this was warp those good memories. And when he looked again at the foot of the bed, there was no one.

"Well," Loki asked, after a while.

Tony nodded and fell into the god's chest after breathing a sigh of relief. He was so achingly sober it almost made him wish he was shit-faced drunk again. And tired. Awake and very much on edge. But so tired.

"If the hallucinations are gone, the potion will have run the majority of its course."

Tony huffed out a breath. "I feel like I owe you a punch in the face…"

"You were dangerously ill," Loki reminded him softly, but seriously. "The alcohol was taking over your blood. If I left you, you'd have been dead before sunrise. The potion is only as unberable the closer you are to death."

"Shit…"

Loki just snorted humorless laughter and shook his head.

Tony lay back against the pillows, only then realizing that Loki no longer had him wrapped in his arms. For the first time that night Tony wondered exactly how Loki had managed to get here. He was supposed to be on house arrest, unless he got off early for good behavior. Tony supposed that made sense since the dinner thing was supposed to be…oh, tomorrow. Right.

Tony had been so worried about seeing Loki in person after so long and had been dreading it so much that he had almost convinced himself he should cancel, but here they both were already because of Tony's idiocy in the first place. "Guess I owe you an explanation…"

"One of a few," the god replied.

"There was a person… when I was younger. My…business partner-took me in after my parents died, or tried to…he murdered him, covered it up for years, and I didn't know a god damned thing until…God, what time is it? Few hours ago. Hence the…extreme desire to drink myself to death."

"Liam?"

"Yeah…" Then Tony chuckled without any true mirth. "Sorry, that's got to be the biggest buzzkill yet-me talking about… well, we never really talked about it but… Sorry."

"I happen to understand more than you know, Stark."

"It just fucking sucks… being the one that's left."

"It does."

"It would be so nice if it didn't just fucking suck for once…" He adjusted and pulled himself further up on the pillows so he was properly sitting up. "You know?"

Loki made a noise of agreement, but seemed distracted.

Tony watched with no small amount of apprehension as Loki touched his arc reactor with his bare hands. He felt silly afterwards, because he didn't feel any different. And he knew if Loki actually wanted to do something to him, he'd had countless opportunities before now to do it. Watching those fingers trail along the light of his reactor though was just… weird.

"This is a part of you," Loki asked softly with a creased brow.

"Hasn't always been," Tony answered, truthfully.

Loki gave him an unimpressed look. "Obviously. Midgardians are not born with technology embedded into their chests. How did this come to be," he asked as he removed the wet washcloths from their discarded places on the bed.

"It's funny… it was really shitty, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Do tell…"

So Tony did. It ate up the better part of an hour, admitting to his previous days designing weapons, being an overall asshole, then falling into the hands of an idiot terrorist group hired by his partner to kill him, then ultimately having his life saved by said terrorist group with crude mechanical parts and a car battery. Tony went through every detail he possibly could to give himself time. Because the latest side effect, to add to the long list of things he'd had to suffer tonight, was a raging hard on.

It was definitely by far the most embarrassing.

Even moreso than the open sobbing and hallucinating of his dead college boyfriend.

Tony couldn't be sure Loki hadn't already noticed, but he'd made no indication otherwise, and the best defense Tony could possibly have in this situation was to just keep talking. So he did. He even went so far to explain the palladium poisoning, the Stark Expo take-over by an army of drones, and eventually _not_ dying again. Loki appeared amused by it all, and for that Tony was thankful. The god hadn't glanced down at his pants once. But then, Tony wondered why it mattered so much. It wasn't as if he hadn't spent the past several days jerking off to thoughts of himself with the god. Maybe he was just worried it was one of Loki's games. That the interest hadn't been genuine. That he'd been played…

"Loki," he asked, after a long silence after finishing with the Hammer incident. "Why did you send me that text?"

The god straightened and his facial expression changed, neutralized rather. "You'll have to be more specific-"

"Please don't play those games with me," Tony asked. "Tell me why."

"Are you asking the god of lies and mischief for his honesty?"

"I'm asking _you_."

"He is me."

"He's not all of you."

Loki studied him for a long time, and Tony let him. Those blue eyes narrowed down on him. "You are different," he said eventually.

Tony frowned. "Is different a good thing?"

"Yes, Stark. It is. And in the case you were wondering, persistent arousal is one of the after-effects of the potion."

Tony stared, unable to speak at first, his bubbled fear of discovery successfully popped. "You knew that…?"

"I actually planned on leaving you to settle your own affairs once the worst of it passed. I still could."

 _I still could._

Was that an invitation? Tony hoped to God that was an invitation. Because if he read this wrong like he potentially read those texts wrong…he wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with the consequences of being such a moron. So, he took a leap of faith.

Tony let loose a shaky breath. "I don't want to be alone."

Loki closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose. "Are you asking me to stay?"

There was a loose strand of hair in front of Loki's face.

Tony reached to touch it.

What would he have done with it? Grabbed onto it and pulled? Smoothed it back with the rest of his hair? Or just touched it to see what it felt like?

Whatever he would have done, he didn't get the chance, because his wrist was caught in that powerful grip.

It was gentle, of course, but commanding nonetheless.

Tony supposed he could have gotten out of the hold if he wanted to, but that was just it. He _didn't_ want to. He was actually enjoying this, because it was like the first note of a song, breaking the silence with the first note, with the accompanying promise of a journey if you stayed to listen. It made his mind stop churning with guilt and panic and sadness and anger. The first touch made him feel… real.

Needed.

Wanted.

Maybe Tony should have felt self-conscious, but all he felt was a jolt of electricity run straight to his pants. Loki was still at first, as he stared at him, and then the god's thumb moved against the bottom hollow of Tony's palm. Was he waiting for a reaction? Oh, right. There had been a question.

"Yes," Tony answered, honestly.

"Is that all you want me to do? To stay?"

Now was the turning point.

Loki was trying to be painfully clear, not for his own benefit, but for both of them. It was one thing to fantasize about someone. It was something else entirely to turn it into a reality. Tony didn't think about the consequences. He didn't think about Shield or the Avengers or Iron Man or Pepper or Rhodey or anybody else. Because he kept returning to that first time in the shower, when he felt like for the first time in a long time he knew what he wanted.

"No," he whispered.

"What is it you want," Loki asked, his hand still holding Tony's wrist.

"Touch me?"

The god's lips parted as he kept eye contact and took a few moments to respond. "Where?"

He wanted to be touched everywhere by that hand. He needed it. He needed so badly. So he said as much in answer. "Everywhere," he said.

Loki said nothing, but climbed more fully on top of the bed, on top of him. Tony leaned back into the pillows, inevitably sliding downward as he watched the god move over him, one leg on either side of his hips. Loki hovered close, pressing Tony's wrist to the pillows beside his own head. The god leaned down toward Tony's face, locks of dark hair creating a partial curtain from the soft light of Manhattan beyond. With his other hand, the god tilted Tony's chin up with one finger. Wisps of cool breath-Why was it cool?-then there were warm soft lips ghosting his own.

He didn't dare breathe at first. His whole body tensed up like a bowstring. It was an offering. And he readily accepted by meeting the god the rest of the way, pressing his own lips gently upward. It was a soft and slow meeting at first, a test of pressure, intent, and boundaries.

And it all got thrown out the window the moment Loki slipped that wicked tongue between Tony's lips for the first time. Meeting and wrestling with that tongue had him distracted enough to only notice Loki's hands magically appearing at the base of his skull and traveling over his chest, across his nipples, and down his abs toward his pelvis. Tony managed to only get one hand wound into those dark curls. They were soft, and they fit around his fingers so freaking perfectly.

Then Loki's hand snaked around to grip Tony's ass. He gasped into the god's mouth and Loki smiled against him. In retaliation, he caught the god's lower lip between his teeth and sucked. That drew a surprised groan from him and Tony released it with a smirk of his own. Loki just growled and gripped Tony's chin in a bruising grip to prevent him from moving and completely devour his mouth.

His hips begged for action and friction, but annoying as it was, the god's legs were positioned across Tony's thighs with his feet hooked along the insides near his knees. Even if Tony wanted-needed to feel an answering weight between Loki's own legs, there was too much space between them and it was starting to drive him crazy. The moment he released the god's hair with his loose hand, Loki grabbed it and pressed it to the other side of Tony's head.

Tony wanted to be held down. He wanted to be teased. He'd fantasized about both. But when presented with the real thing and having the god's response held just out of his reach was almost too much. Tony growled into Loki's mouth after the umpteenth attempt to lessen the space between them.

...

Hours later, when they were done, Tony looked and found Loki's eyes to be their normal gorgeous blue. "Same time tomorrow," Tony breathed. "Right?"

Loki smirked at him and gave a breathy chuckle. "You prideful creature."

"It's me. And it's not my fault you do amazing sex…or that I had four orgasms…Jesus, I had four orgasms."

"Is that a record? I'm shocked it's so low."

"S'been a while since I pulled an all nighter. Gimme a break."

"We will have to work on your normal stamina. You've spoiled me."

"I'll get you back…"

Loki's hands were on his back, tracing comforting patterns up and down.

"Keep doing that," Tony warned. "M'gonna fall asleep…"

"You will regardless of whether I stop. And I quite like the texture of your back at the moment."

"Mmhm…"

Right before Tony fell into the oblivion of sleep he heard Loki whisper above his head, "I will miss this." Tony had wanted to question the god, but felt sleep and his physical exhaustion mercilessly drag him under. All he could do was wrap his arms around the god tighter as he fell under, and hope he'd be there in the morning.

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah, remember how I said I had to split the last chapter into two parts? Almost had to do it again. You're welcome. (Also, an explicit extended version of this chapter exists on AO3)**


	5. Afterglow

**CHAPTER FIVE – Afterglow**

The first thing Tony saw the next morning was golden sunlight shining on the empty sheets next to him. He stared at them for a while, confused at first as to why the sight disappointed him. Eventually he remembered.

At first glance it did look like nothing was different, that it all could have been some wacked out dream or his fantasies finally manifesting into some sort of sadistic unrequited mindfuck roleplay. But the sheets were more mussed and wrinkled than usual, not to mention the extra pillows he kept in the master closet were for some reason piled up behind his head, next to him, and even against the far wall. Last Tony checked he hadn't developed a sleepwalking habit. And no matter how drunk he got, he _never_ blacked out. Sometimes it took him a while to remember, but he _always_ remembered.

Eventually.

He groaned, closed his eyes, and attempted to stretch out. That was when he felt it. Soreness he hadn't been familiar with in _years_.

" _Relax for me," Liam breathed. "I won't hurt ye."—Blue eyes. "You're certain you want that," Loki asked._

Coming down from the sharp wince he noticed something else. Loose thread against the fingertips of his right hand. He moved the pillow aside to see a fairly large hole, a smaller hole next to it, and the beginnings of one next to that. Putting his fingertips to them revealed a hand to likely have been the cause for the damage. Maybe a hand a little larger than his own. More powerful—

" _Shut. Up!" Growled hot and wet against the side of his neck._

He pressed his nose to the pillow and smelled… leather maybe, the barest hint of pine…or was it oak, and clean crispness, much like how it smelled when it was snowing. That was what the god smelled like. And not just any god, but the very one Tony had been having those freaking endless dreams about. Tony thought about it, propped up on his elbows, surveying the state of his bedroom and body.

He'd had sex with a god.

He'd had sex with… Loki.

Huh.

It had been a while since Tony was the one who was left alone in bed afterwards. Last night had probably been the best night of sleep Tony had gotten in months. No nightmares. No middle of the night panic attacks. No insomnia. No restless brain unable to shut off tormenting him with equations and ideas for something new, something safer. And not for nothing, but from what he was remembering, the sex had been so fucking good that just thinking about it made him weary at the thought of morning wood. Because from what it seemed like, he was back to just himself with no certain object of his fantasies to help. Out of curiosity, he grabbed the edge of the sheet covering him, lifted it, smelled beneath, and- _yeah_. _There_ it was.

Shower.

He definitely needed a shower.

Twenty minutes later (five or perhaps seven of them spent cursing and hobbling to the bathroom-because when you get fucked senseless there's no way you _don't_ feel it the next morning), he smelled and felt a little more like a normal human being. In a rock band shirt and pair of sweatpants that could totally pass for _not_ sweatpants, he braved the living area. As he feared, the contents of the box Pepper had sent over last night were still there on the coffee table as a reminder of the whole catalyst to last night's sequence of events.

He sighed and ran his hands down his face before decidedly moving over to the items and placing each one, gingerly as he could, back into the box.

His mother's medal went around his own neck, because though he'd gifted it to Liam, it was still his mother's. And not for nothing, but now it felt like aside from carrying a piece of his mother around with him, he would also be carrying Liam. He fingered it for a moment longer, pressed it quickly to his lips, and dropped it beneath his shirt. Ironically, the medal fell right over the arc reactor with a slightly muffled chink. He would have to figure something out with the chain.

The familiar weight brought back some memories of when he was younger, but he pushed them aside to place the last item in the box. The picture of himself and Liam he placed on top of everything else. He traced a fingertip one last time around the curves of that face he once knew so well. Then he placed the lid securely on top and carried the whole thing… where? It didn't feel right throwing these memories into storage like he'd done with everything else from his childhood and younger years. He couldn't keep it out either, because the whole point of putting something to rest meant _putting it somewhere_.

He was Tony Stark. And Tony Stark had too many freaking rooms to freaking count in this goddamn tower. So he chose one.

It was close to the elevator, an unused guest room of the penthouse with a walk-in closet and the tiniest balcony known to man. Pepper had once said it was cute. But Tony didn't place the box where any normal person would have put it, which would have been in the closet, either back in a corner or up on a shelf. He placed it on the middle of the unused bed and shut the door behind him.

"Jarvis," Tony addressed, leaning a little against the door, hand still on the knob. "Lock this room and restrict access to me only at all times."

Silence. And no telltale click of the door lock.

"Jarvis," he called again, confused.

…nothing. The hell—?

Oh right… He'd disabled the poor guy last night. He'd have to fix that. Sighing, he returned to the living space and woke up a tablet to get J.A.R.V.I.S. back online. Once he got through to the emergency access codes, he stopped to realize a few other important details, aside from the very obvious absence of coffee.

 _Shit, what time was it?_

 _Shit, where was his phone?_

 _Shit, was that a crowbar?—_

Loud banging erupted from the emergency stairwell door. "TONY," someone shouted on the other side, someone who sounded suspiciously like-

"Rhodey," he called, crossing to the door.

"Yeah! Open up!"

Disengaging the manual lock, he opened the door to a panting sweating and very annoyed Colonel Rhodes. The Colonel's casual attire, of jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, and a hoodie clenched in his right hand, was what prompted Tony to also remember that it was Saturday. Rhodey didn't make a lot of house calls, much less make house calls in his civilian clothes. In fact, nine out of ten times Rhodey made it a point of making whatever necessary visits in his uniform just to get Tony to play ball and be an adult. Now that he thought about it, Tony couldn't remember the last time Rhodey looked so normal.

"Jesus," Tony said, stepping aside. "What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

"What the hell else was I supposed to do, " Rhodey groused as he came inside, tossing his hoodie over a chair.

"Uh, knock?"

"I'm sure Jarvis would have heard that-Oh _wait!_ He wouldn't have because he's _offline!_ What's wrong with you, man? You've got your tower still under construction and you disable your only security system?!"

Tony rolled his eyes and returned to the tablet, punching in the final codes before a loud but brief whir sounded. "He's not the only security feature of this tower and you know that."

"To side with Colonel Rhodes, I _am_ your primary source of security, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. "And as one of your emergency contacts is present, I will reverse the emergency protocol for my unexpected disabling the previous evening."

"How thoughtful of you," Tony snarked. "Keep yourself busy and run system diagnostics, will you?"

"Already in process, sir."

Tony frowned as he turned to look at his tired friend, who finally looked like he was catching his breath. Right. Stairs. Shit. That was a shit ton of stairs. "Sorry about all that. How did you even know he was offline?"

"Pepper called me in a panic," Rhodey explained. "She said your phone's been going to voicemail all morning. The last time either of us heard your voicemail was 1995."

Tony sighed loud and dramatically. "It's Saturday," he _may_ have whined. "I swear if this is about that freaking merger with-"

"Tony," Rhodes interrupted, slow and threatening. "Please tell me I'm not seeing what I'm seeing right now…"

Tony followed the Colonel's gaze toward the windows (because he knew he kicked the crowbar into the far corner out of sight), specifically to the doors that led out to the— Ohhhhhhhh. Shit.

"You mean," Tony started, deadpan. "Two empty bottles of Johnny Walker on the landing pad? Or the broken railing for some reason still attached to the side of the tower? We're probably both having the same hallucination…"

In stony silence and with a death glare, Rhodey walked out to survey the damage. Tony followed him, feeling like a puppy with its tail between its legs. Due to past experience, however, Tony kept his mouth firmly shut and waited until Rhodey spoke first. Out on the landing pad there was a soft breeze. The day was warm, but the wind at this height made the air chilly. The railing still by some miracle attached to its counterparts made loud smacking noises against steel beams below. Somewhat mockingly, his wallet was balanced at the edge, more than one corner out over open air. Rhodey snatched it up, gave Tony a hard look and shook his head.

"Uh-uh," Rhodey said, turning to walk back into the living space. "I'm moving in."

Tony rolled his eyes and turned to follow. "Rhodes-"

"I don't wanna hear it, man," his friend exploded. "You don't get to defend yourself here! You don't get privacy when you almost freaking die because of this shit, okay?! We're emptying that bar today and we're tossing every secret stash you have on every floor-"

"It's not every floor-"

"I don't give a shit, Tony! You're quitting cold turkey and that's the end of it. You have a problem and we're fucking fixing it right fucking now!"

"Okay."

Rhodey paused, giving him a look of disbelief at not having to put up much more of a fight. " _Okay?_ "

"Yeah. Okay."

Rhodey frowned and studied him with sharp eyes. "…who are you and what did you do with Tony Stark?"

Tony rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's just get some boxes before I change my mind."

"I'll do that," he said, pulling his phone out and tossing it to Tony. "You're calling Pepper."

"See this is how I know you actually wish I took a dive last night-"

" _No_ , just **no** ," Rhodey snapped. "Don't go there right now, man! If another joke flies out of that mouth I'm gonna clock you one, _with the God damned suit!_ "

Leaving Rhodey to his business with the bar, Tony stepped over to the far side of the room and gave his friend space. The phone call to Pepper went about as well as it could have, all things considered. Once Tony mentioned Rhodey moving in Pepper became much easier to talk to, and Tony didn't blame her. He spied Rhodey's discovery of the crowbar and instantly felt worse. It wasn't like a child getting caught this time. It was the disappointment of letting his _family_ down again.

Christ, if there was some magical way to _not_ keep being such a fuck up Tony wanted in, big time.

"Just do me a favor and clear my schedule for a few days, will you," he asked her, keeping his voice low.

"It's already done," Pepper answered. "No one's to contact you for a full week. And I'm sending you information on a therapist who's got a near perfect track record for how to effectively deal with alcoholism."

"…thanks."

"Listen. We care about you. I care about you. Don't look at this information until tomorrow. Take a day for yourself. Settle in with Rhodey. And tomorrow you can start making decisions, okay?"

"During this whole conversation you didn't yell at me once."

Tony could practically feel the eye roll in the sound of her voice. "I don't have to raise my voice to rip you a new one that you actually deserve for your own stupidity."

"Point taken. Tell that new personal assistant-whatshisname-to have Happy stop by Rhodey's and get some things for him? Whatever he wants or needs for a week-"

"I already took care of it. Happy's dropping a bag off within the hour."

Tony frowned. "Kind of negates the whole point of hiring another personal assistant for me if you keep using him, doesn't it?"

"Let's be honest. The only person you trust with your personal life has been and will always be me. No matter who we hire."

"So really this new guy is _your_ personal assistant that you just let me borrow from time to time?"

"Which is never, but essentially, yes. Being a CEO isn't as easy as I make it look."

"Yeah, well, you fool everyone all the time. Thanks Pep."

"Please promise to take care of yourself, Tony."

"I promise."

He hung up the call and eventually made his way back over to Rhodey who was still tense and probably still very willing to punch him. He couldn't blame the guy. Last night had probably been the worst Tony had ever let himself get, as far as level of drunkenness _and_ level of stupidity. Granted he had his reasons and triggers, but there should have been no earthly reason for him to fully disable J.A.R.V.I.S. Hell, anyone could have forced their way in if they really tried to, and stolen or ruined god knows what without even considering putting god knows who at risk because Tony was not the only person who was in the tower after six o'clock.

He was still trying to convince the other Avengers to take up rooms in the newly named Avengers tower (no small amount of laziness due to not wanting to pay for four more new letters to be replaced-and hey, fate worked in mysterious ways and Tony wasn't known to question it… sometimes). Getting them to agree would be a hard sell until the tower was near completion with renovations _and_ security repairs after the Chitauri invasion. But he'd been promised everything would be done within the next week. And Bruce already pre-accepted a room, once he decided he was done with being a hermit again. It was Tony's job to protect his team. Nights like last night simply couldn't happen anymore.

"You gonna just stand there," Rhodey said from his stooped position beneath the bar, bottles still clanging loudly against each other. "Or are you gonna help me with this?"

"How about I do you one better?" Before Rhodey could make much of an argument, Tony had snatched a bottle with a screw cap (seriously? He owned this?), unscrewed it, and without much pomp and circumstance upended the bottle to empty into the sink and down the drain.

"That works too," Rhodey said, eyebrows raised in impressed surprise. Not a moment later Rhodey had pulled out a corkscrew and got to work himself.

"This is half my fortune, you know."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "No, it's not. You're not Johnny Depp."

"Fucking moron."

"Goddamn right. Gimme that expensive shit." Once Rhodey had a hold of it, he dumped that as well. "In case it's not clear, I'm fucking pissed at you."

"No, that's clear."

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

"More than a bit." Tony rubbed the side of his head.

"Headache?"

"I've had worse."

"Yeah and that's part of what I don't get. You had two full bottles of Johnny Walker and somehow you don't get the mother of all hangovers _and_ didn't end up a pile of God knows what in the middle of Time's Square."

"I… might have had some help. Not being a pancake this morning, that is."

Rhodey stopped to face him. "Someone was with you last night?"

"Yeah. Mystery guy. You know. Random 'I was in the neighborhood' kind of thing…"

"Mystery guy _help_ you get that fucking drunk?"

"No. He found me and kind of kept me from drinking myself to death. And from taking a swan dive over the side, much as I don't like to think about it."

"That's fucking good timing."

"You're telling me."

"So what started all of this? What made you want to get that shitfaced?"

Tony sighed. It wasn't as if he could run and hide from it. It had happened too long ago to even justify running and hiding from it. That didn't make it feel any less raw or painful, but there also wasn't anything to be done about it. The only one left in the end was him, like it always was. "Obi had Liam killed. All those years ago."

Rhodey looked at him in disbelief and quietly asked, " _What?_ "

"It's my fucking fault, Rhodey-"

"No, no, no, before we even get to that, how do you know that's what happened?"

Tony explained the finding of the box, the contents of it, and even pulled out his mother's medal from underneath his shirt.

"Shit," Rhodey said softly. "I'm sorry, Tones."

"Yeah, me too."

A silence passed between them. Rhodey put a hand on Tony's shoulder and in turn he grabbed on to the soldier's hand. Tony _really_ didn't want to think about it anymore. There was only one way to not think about it, to distract himself, and if anyone knew that as well as him it was Rhodey.

"Come on," he said, handing Tony the last bottle of scotch to empty. "Finish it up."

Tony unscrewed the cap (Another one? Really?), upended the bottle, and angrily swiped at his watery eyes. He watched the amber liquid go down the drain and could almost see his troubles go with it. What a fucking metaphor. Once it was done, he tossed the empty glass bottle in a recycling bin with the rest.

"Alright," Rhodey cheered. "Wine's next."

Tony groaned out loud. "My ancestors are rolling in their shitty provincial graves."

"Yeah and you're currently not. Pass over the corkscrew, fratello."

An hour later, after Happy came and went, Rhodey settled into the guest room next to the master and Tony slipped down to the workshop and pulled out the new Starkphone prototype. He made some quick modifications and got it quickly synced with the cloud info from his old and now toasted phone. It would still be a work in progress, but for now at least he had something. And in the meantime J.A.R.V.I.S. would do well enough on his own when Tony was home and working on getting it up to his standards-which were always better than anyone on the whole planet.

Small goals and all.

"Systems diagnostics almost complete, sir," the A.I. interrupted.

"Looking good," Tony droned, absently swiping through the progress reports. "Sorry for last night by the way."

"Apology accepted, sir."

Tony swiped aside some new suit modifications and sat back in his chair, debating whether or not to give in to his curiosity. "Is Rhodes still unpacking?"

"Colonel Rhodes finished settling into his room and has instructed me to tell you he has gone out for a few minutes to get food and will return _very_ shortly."

"Uh-huh." Tony exhaled slowly, undecided. Dare he look? He had the memories. He had the physical proof in his muscles.

"Was there something else, sir?"

Fuck it. "Do me a favor and pull the security footage from last night and put it on the work tab."

He sped through most of it. He watched himself stumble onto the roof, lose his phone, nearly lose his wallet, almost go over twice, and then almost a third time-but that time Loki was there.

He studied the god, feeling a part of himself relax and another part ache. Loki seemed… relieved, then annoyed, definitely annoyed, maybe angry-Tony not about to pass any blame there. Jesus, had he been that much of a slop? The billionaire was a little surprised the god didn't just leave him to choke on his own vomit for all that hassle getting to the bedroom, and then _in_ the bedroom.

But then he watched himself detox and couldn't really come up with any words for the care and attention that he'd been on the receiving end of. Tony never really imagined the god could be so gentle. Granted all he'd been exposed to physically was the violence and rage and scheming from Manhattan Day, but in their conversations since then he also learned that Loki could be snarky and sassy and downright sexy when he wanted to. And not for nothing, but the capacity for kindness was so astounding enough on its own.

Maybe that was why Loki still felt so mysterious. How could someone with all those other qualities still hold a generous well of that kind of affection? It was like an oxymoron, but humans were walking oxymorons so Tony couldn't really confidently hold a candle to that flame.

It was selfish… but he did watch the rest of it.

Fuck, he hadn't imagined it being four times… it had _actually_ been four times.

"Would you like me to classify this as private, sir?"

He was sorely tempted to keep it, if only to memorize exactly how Loki's face contorted and relaxed in pleasure when he finally came, but the nagging thought at the back of his mind that said certain Shield agents would love to get their greedy hacking hands on the footage helped him make the ultimate decision. "Delete it," Tony said, voice wavering. "And get rid of any other footage from that night. No one can ever know he was here but you and me."

"Very good, sir. And given your activities the previous evening, would you like me to amend the status of Loki Odinson from enemy to friend?"

Tony blinked in shock that he hadn't taken care of that protocol before. Hell, if J.A.R.V.I.S. had actually been active last night probably would have gone much differently. "Uh, _yeah_. That would _probably_ be a good idea."

"The footage has successfully been deleted and Loki Odinson's status has been amended."

He put the tablet down, not really fully able to wipe the smile from his face. There was no fucking way in hell he would ever get Loki's facial expression unseared from his memory. The whole experience had been ten times better than he ever dared to think. And damn him but Tony couldn't wait to have more.

Before he could get himself any more aroused than he already was, Rhodey brought in their very late lunch (what did the kids call it these days? Something stupid like linner?) and a couple of take out cups of coffee. He may have groaned out loud at the first sip of caffeine. And Rhodey may have rolled his eyes. Either way, God bless the Colonel.

They ate in relative silence after Rhodey filled him in on the declassified parts of his latest work with the military-and the gossip (which if we're honest is what Tony actually cared about). "So you do the thing," he asked, when they reached a lull.

Tony frowned, after tossing a french fry in his mouth. "What thing?"

Rhodey raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coffee. "You've been walking funny all day. I don't actually believe this 'Mystery Guy just happened to be in the neighborhood' bullcrap. And you're in a pretty good mood despite having almost died last night, so…"

"Does me being in a good mood _have_ to mean I got laid?"

Rhodey smiled. "So you _did_ get laid?"

The corner of Tony's mouth upturned into the beginnings of a smirk, but he tamped it down. "Kissing and telling is rude. That's sex 101."

"Uh huh," Rhodey teased, unconvinced. "Was it good?"

Tony leaned forward on crossed his arms, and sighed as he dropped his head. "If I keep thinking about it we're going to have to cut this conversation short."

Rhodey frowned. "Why's that?"

Tony fixed him with an expectant look.

Rhodey returned the look with his own confused one with slight indignation at supposing to know what Tony meant.

Tony jerked his eyes down.

It took a moment more, but Rhodey's eyes finally widened with understanding. "Ohhh," Rhodey said.

"Uh-huh," Tony said, with a tone of _finally._

Rhodey frowned again in disbelief. " _That_ good?"

Tony shot his own healthy dose of indignation back at him. "Uh-huh!"

"Damn. Should I be jealous?-"

Tony covered his face with his hands. "Yeah-remember what I _just_ said about needing to _not_ think about it, Rhodes?"

"Alright-alright. Here's another thing, then. You were pretty drunk last night-"

Here it goes… Tony sighed and dropped his hands to look his friend in the eye, not really able to help his arms from falling into their crossed and defensive position. "And he took care of me-"

"That's not what I mean, Tony."

"I _know_ what you mean," he placated. "Trust me. By the time we got to the fun part, I was sober and there was plenty of the magic c-word to go around. Happy?"

Rhodey studied him for a few moments longer, then took another sip of his coffee. "As long as you are. I know you know this, but I'm gonna say it anyway. Last night was a perfect storm because when you're that drunk consent is a major issue."

"You know how I feel about getting all TMI because once I start I don't stop unless you interrupt me and by that point I've usually embarrassed myself so—"

"Let's just get the part _I still_ don't get, then?"

"Perfect."

"You don't sober up from two full bottles of Johnny Walker in a few hours. So unless I missed Mystery Guy's exit a few minutes before I came in, I don't see how—"

"Oh shit-fuck-God damn it," Tony cursed, having just taken a quick look at the time.

Rhodey frowned, hands up at being put out for not finishing his point. "What's wrong?"

Tony groaned, throwing opened projects back into their folders and trying to find his newly uploaded phone amidst all the tools and hardware. "I'm supposed to be in Asgard. Like in five fucking minutes."

" _Asgard?_ What the hell for?"

"Yeah, the whole 'you saved my son' thing-Thor's mom basically wants to adopt me-it's a long story, but I said I'd go and _thanks for the non-existent reminder, Jarvis!"_

"Apologies, sir," the A.I. replied. "But my systems are still recalibrating from the manual shut down you implemented last evening."

"Don't give me sass, mister," Tony snapped. "You are so getting a motherboard overhaul when I get back. Shit. I need to change."

"I really think you ought to cancel, Tony," Rhodey said. "Thor would understand."

"Yeah no shit I should, but-HA," he exclaimed, snatching his phone. All he had to do was just text Thor to…

"What's wrong?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "… looks like he already did."

Rhodey looked over his shoulder at the text.

 _ **THOR (Thunder-Thighs):**_ MAN OF IRON, I AM SORRY TO BEAR SUCH ILL NEWS, BUT THE FEAST FOR THIS EVENING HAS BEEN CANCELED. MY MOTHER WISHES TO EXPRESS HER CONDOLENCES AND SINCEREST HOPES THAT WE MAY RECONVENE IN FUTURE FOR YOUR SERVICES TO OUR FAMILY.

"Funny how that worked out," Rhodey commented.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Weird…"

"Dude's getting better with his vocabulary."

"Mm. The wonders of the internet."

It sounded to Tony like some serious shit went down in Asgard. Or maybe for Norse gods serious sounding shit was just par for the course. Either way, he couldn't help but think of Loki and wondered if he knew anything about it. He sent two texts off. One to Thor and one to Loki. Loki's non-response didn't worry him, but Thor's non-response did—because for this guy's savant track record with either the simplest of emojis or the most surprising of internet memes it was more than a little worrying.

Rhodey admitted it was a little concerning, but reasoned it was possible for Asgard to be dealing with more important matters-potentially dangerous and threatening for a world that was much more aware of the other worlds out there than earth had been only a few months earlier. Tony understood that. What he couldn't understand was why days went by without a single response from Loki.

It… kind of hurt.

And Tony's insecurities didn't exactly give him an easy time with the endless silence, either. Did he do something wrong? Did he _not_ do something-or not do _enough_ of something? Maybe he didn't reciprocate enough. Maybe he'd been too needy. Maybe he'd been too honest. The possibilities mercilessly increased as the days went by and it was getting really fucking hard to hide it from Rhodey.

He checked Loki's phone after day three and got a partial answer when he tried to run a remote systems diagnostic.

 _Device unable to connect. Address non-existent._

"Shit," he cursed.

No connection meant no remote charging ability which meant a dead phone and no way to communicate directly with the god.

Well, that answered the radio silence.

He'd have to get Thor to get Loki a new one so he could figure out what the problem was, but the new challenge was even getting in contact with the god of thunder in the first place. Both texts _and_ calls got him nowhere. So when Tony got an Avenger's alert for a mission from Fury a few days after that, he jumped at the opportunity, much to Rhodey's chagrin. But the Colonel's argument fell on deaf ears, because in Tony's opinion there was only so much binge watching of Netflix _and_ Hulu in a week's time both of them could stomach. Rhodey didn't disagree, but crashed the party all the same, and _not_ because he didn't trust Tony to handle himself, but because he was pretty sure Tony was hiding something from him. And sure, Tony admittedly was, but he didn't really have much choice but to string the guy along and _hope_ to misdirect him.

Fury looked a little annoyed when everyone sat down, but smartly kept his mouth shut, happy to have Tony actually show up for a mission when all he'd gotten the past few months were excuses about tower renovations, suit upgrades, and company crises. And not for nothing, but the director was probably happy to have War Machine when they were a man down with Banner being MIA again. Tony, of course, knew where he was, but that was Bruce's business and he would do his damndest to protect his science bro's privacy.

As Tony had hoped, Thor was there too. Well… mostly there.

During Steve's debrief Tony half paid attention to Steve because he was also half busy studying the near-moping Asgardian god. The god of thunder looked worn and a little miserable. Tony could tell he was distracted because he barely gave the notes a glance. When Steve called him on it, Thor's response was simple.

"You asked me to help you fight and I will," the god said. "Simply tell me who and let us get on with it."

Natasha raised an eyebrow and Clint just shrugged.

Before take off, Tony discreetly motioned Thor inside the back of the quinjet to talk. To his utter surprise, Thor followed and even lowered his voice as he updated the man about the sudden cancelation for the feast. After listening to the explanation, Tony was _fucking_ furious.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I am afraid I do not," Thor sourly replied. "The Allfather was in a mood most foul. And I cannot say I do not agree with him. Despite doing to so aid you, Loki broke Odin's trust. He broke his bond and the terms of his limited freedom for more. My brother can be power-hungry at the worst of times, but with his timing it was impossible for the Allfather to believe it was not out of slight."

"That is _bullshit_ ," Tony seethed. "He risked his freedom to help me and he's the one who gets punished for saving my ass?"

"Loki admitted he knew the risks and said so in defense of his actions."

"So the fact that I'm alive and not a human pancake doesn't matter?"

"Odin said your mistakes were your own to correct, not Loki's."

Tony laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. "Dad and King of the year. Why am I not surprised? What's the punishment?"

Thor looked at Tony for a few moments with crossed arms, but eventually answered. "Imprisonment alone in the cell of endless night."

" _Solitary confinement?_ For how long?"

"No less than a hundred years."

Tony felt sick. This was his fault. He fucked up _and_ fucked someone else's life up in the process. Again. If he hadn't gotten so drunk… If Loki hasn't risked his freedom… Tony would be _**dead and buried**_ in a hundred years.

Thor was frowning at him. "Are you alright, my friend?"

"Yeah, not really, but it's fine."

Thor looked at him confused. "I do not understand."

Tony shook his head. "It's nothing. Could we just keep this between the two of us? For now?"

"If that is what you wish. But I see no reason for you to fear such enlightenment from the others. They may even be more inclined to help you."

"Not that I'm thrilled with the idea of group therapy, but I've already got someone to talk to."

 _Just not the person I actually need…_

"Don't suppose you could sneak another phone in," Tony had to at least try and ask.

"I am afraid not. My mother and I are both forbidden from visiting him."

"That's… really shitty," was all Tony could think of to say. "I'm sorry, Thor."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Thor said, taking his seat as the rest of the Avengers started boarding the quinjet.

 _Yes, I fucking do…_

* * *

 **A/N: I'm getting into a terrible habit of splitting these chapters because they end up getting too big. Apologies for the delay. Between fall allergies, wedding planning, and job hunting again this update wore me the hell out. Half of this chapter felt like filler too, necessary sure, but we will get to the fun stuff with the next few chapters. Next update to immediately follow because I keep forgetting to update here in addition to AO3. But double update for y'all! Thanks for reading! Leave comments as always!**


	6. A plague of ice and fire

**CHAPTER SIX – A plague of ice and fire**

In the end, it wasn't the endless promises to stay away from alcohol, nor was it the additional security protocols Tony had installed into J.A.R.V.I.S. or the offer to give Rhodey a live feed of the bar at all times or even to let him sit in on his therapy sessions to actually see how well Tony was doing (it was only the third time he'd seen the woman, but he could absolutely feel the progress). No. What actually got Rhodey to finally give Tony some personal space was the **fucking flu**.

Tony swore up and down he caught the damned bug from their mission last week to Australia, even with J.A.R.V.I.S. giving all evidence to the contrary. But none of the other Avengers got sick, and for some dumbass inexplicable reason he had no fever for anyone or anything to measure. He had the chills, the body aches, the coughing, vertigo for some god damned reason, and his absolute favorite: the nausea.

It had all started out pretty mild, minor annoyances compounding into bigger and bigger daily problems. The weird thing, though Tony was not about to question it, because he was _not_ that stupid, was that aside from the absence of fever he also didn't have any congestion, runny nose, or a sore throat. Maybe one of these days they would all show up at once and just make it a fucking rager in his sinuses, but until then he'd deal with the shitty bug as is and pretend otherwise.

He _hated_ being sick.

Always had.

And he especially hated it when he had to be in front of other people. Not only did he hate germs, but he hated the pitying looks, the winces, the shuffling away to create more distance. It was a form of personal embarrassment whenever he had to be in front of the board or his executives at his company, which is why if he ever did get sick he just made up excuses like an emergency trip to Malibu, plain forgetfulness if he was feeling nice, or obstinate stubbornness if he was in a real shitty mood.

However…

When a certain SHIELD director continues to be his nosy pushy asshole self, to keep Tony for as long as humanly possible because SHIELD was literally no better than a clingy ex girlfriend after a third party breakup, Tony was more than willing to shoulder that personal embarrassment and wield it as motherfucking Excalibur.

Whether or not Tony sympathized (#hedidn't) with Fury was beyond the point. Yes, with them being down not one Avenger but two now, because Thor was dealing with some family drama (that Tony definitely as inconspicuously as he could sided with the god on because he was fending off panic attacks in addition to the freaking bug), they weren't at the top of their game. And not for nothing, but being down your two biggest guns for the clean up of leftover Chitauri tech was a little bit of a pain in the ass. It was inevitable that it would end up on the black market, but no one had bet on how quick and complicated a problem it would turn into. Aside from the shit-ton of fun it made for, unsurprisingly it also made for an overworked and thus short-dare he say _cranky_ -Captain America, Romanov, and Barton.

Tony was so jealous of Bruce at the moment he could freaking buy the guy an off-the-grid island just so Tony could visit him and have real vacation.

But according to Fury, Tony had used up all of his superhero vacation time— _Not the superhero vacation time!_ And cue: massive unimpressed eyeroll.

Tonight they were supposed to fly to Iceland and bust some guys looking to make a midnight deal near some big glacier in the middle of a snowstorm. And apparently they were on a tight schedule so Tony just showed up in his suit and waited outside the Quinjet for the other three troublemakers. He was SO tempted to shoot them all a snarky group text for being the only one on time this time, but apparently they were supposed to be getting additional SHIELD agents for this one, so maybe that was the hold up.

And Tony just passed the time and mild boredom by calling Thor.

 _Yes._

Voluntary and everything.

Oddly enough within the past week the god of thunder and Tony had graduated to full-blown phone conversations that didn't leave him wanting to punch something afterwards. And it wasn't entirely due to the fact that Loki had been imprisoned again (it was a large part of it), but also because Thor was his only real connection to what had gone down and what was still happening. Focusing on the present was how Tony kept himself from freaking out and going in guns blazing like a maniac. He'd wanted to so many times, but the reality was if Thor could crush Tony like a bug then just about anyone else would actually take pleasure in doing so out there…

Wherever Asgard actually was.

"Still no movement on your dad's cruel and unusual punishment," Tony asked, after making sure he'd muffled any SHIELD audio surveillance.

"I am afraid not," Thor replied through the video feed of Tony's suit. "My brother would not believe me if I told him, but I entreat the Allfather every day to discuss it. He still refuses with much vigor."

Tony cleared his throat and swallowed the urge to cough. "Why does he hate your brother so much? I mean, I get the whole adoption thing, but even that's a bit fucked up. It's not like after you take a kid in you can say, 'sorry it's not working out' 'no hard feelings', you know?"

Thor sighed. "Loki felt slighted in our childhoods, but Odin did care for him as equally as he cared for me."

"No offense, Point-Break, but people who habitually imprison their kids don't exactly have a clean record when it comes to anger-management. Or anything really."

Thor mused. "There was that small matter of stealing the throne of Asgard whilst Odin slept and I was banished to Midgard."

Tony stared. "… _That_ could be _why_ …"

Thor shrugged, nonchalant. "He also tried to have me killed whilst defenseless on Midgard, though I did reclaim Mjolnir and defeat his Destroyer."

"Not being daddy's favorite is usually a precursor to villainous mass-murder _tendencies_. Trust me, there's books about it-and it's the new fad in psychology these days after the whole emergence of superheroes and aliens thing—" He tried to finish his thought, but quickly devolved into a coughing fit. "Jesus. Sorry."

"How long do illnesses last with mortals? You were this ill when last we spoke three days past."

Tony cleared his throat again and groaned as he spied Rodgers, Romanov, and Barton finally making their way over to the Quinjet with a few SHIELD ops. "Too freaking long. Gonna have to cut this short, looks like the kids are finally ready for school."

"I hope you recover quickly, Stark," Thor said. "I wish you all swift victory in your upcoming battle."

"You and me both. Be happy you gods can't get the fucking flu," he said, closing the connection and detaching his helmet for fresh air (also annoyed he'd have to clean the inside of it, _again_ -freaking germs).

"You've got the flu," Steve asked, stopping in front of him and incredulous.

"Stark's just being a drama queen," Natasha quipped as she boarded the jet. "He's fine."

"How bad is the fever," Steve asked.

"Fevery," he said, sniffling-sniffling?-OH GREAT! "I'm _fine_. Apparently it's so minor it's not measurable."

"Listen, Tony," Steve started to say, interrupted briefly by Barton tossing Tony a box of tissues.

"I feel the love," Tony called after him, though the sharpshooter had already boarded the jet and was getting it ready.

Steve tried to start again, but Tony cut him off by following right behind Clint. "The germs are multiplying the longer we put this thing off, so let's make this quick, Cap. There's a new episode of Game of Thrones tonight. That's how much I love you guys right now. I hope you know that."

"Alright-alright," Steve relented. "But get out of that suit. You're second pilot tonight-"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay, I just declared my undying love for you and you telling me I'm grounded is giving me mixed signals, so unless—"

" _Tony,_ no way. I don't want you on the ground. Not in this condition. That's non negotiable. We need a second pilot for this while we're down there because it's going to be complicated and we're probably going to get some air activity. So you can either be second pilot or you can sit in the back and keep Director Fury updated. It's your choice."

Tony glared at the low fucking blow. Looking around at the rest of the Quinjet, everyone wore similar expressions of support for Steve, which was just the icing on the traitor birthday cake from hell. Teamwork makes the dream work, huh? This is why he worked alone the past few years…

But in the end, Tony did end up stepping out of his suit. "Third option," he proposed. "I remote pilot this baby and multitask circles around you delinquents."

It was on the tip of Steve's tongue to argue him down again, but this time Natasha interrupted him. "Just let him," she sighed. "We're already running against the clock on this."

"Fine," Steve conceded, clearly not happy. "Get strapped in. We'll make adjustments on the way."

"Way to make a girl feel special," Tony muttered, moving toward the front of the jet and taking a seat next to Barton who silently gave him judgy side-eye.

It didn't take them long to get there, but it was painstakingly slow getting in the proper position. Getting the jet close enough to the surface for Rodgers, Nat, and the SHIELD agents to jump out of the back safely took a fair bit of finesse, and Tony had to admit he was mildly impressed with Clint's piloting skills. Then they had to _quietly_ circle around some nearby fishing village, which was a real time test of the new cloaking feature that Tony developed himself after witnessing the barbarian attempt months ago with the SHIELD mothership.

Mothership was a touchy name/subject these days after the Chitauri invasion, but it was still a goddamned mothership so whatever.

As the minutes counted down Tony commandeered one of the dual screens in front of him to remotely control his suit, so if need be he could pilot and still help on the ground at the same time without having to divide his attention. Having a few more screens for the Quinjet stats would have been nice, but Tony could make do without it for now. He was building them a new jet anyway, and not because he was trying to bribe Fury to lay off his ass, but actually because he couldn't wait to trash this big ol' piece of shit in the biggest fireworks display anyone had ever seen.

So far… the new cloaking feature was working nicely, and the rest of the team on the ground were closing in on their targets on the glacier. Maybe this would be an easy in and out. He could really use an easy one with this rolling stomach and annoyingly pounding headache.

Tony really needed to learn not to jinx shit.

Because that's when their shit officially went to royal shit, despite the fact that he never even opened his mouth.

Someone must have tipped someone off, because all of a sudden the team on the ground was dealing with heavy fire, including said alien weapons they were there to confiscate. Immediately, Tony deployed the suit out the back of the jet and focused on giving them additional air support. He assumed when Clint started gunning the engines and flying the jet like it was a fucking X-wing that they were taking the air fire Steve had been so concerned about. He tried to ignore his stomach, but it was getting harder the longer they struggled to evade these Frankensteined human/alien drones _and_ the longer Tony had to use one hand to keep himself somewhat in his seat even with the seat harness.

"On your left," Tony warned, not daring to take his eyes from his suit energy feeds.

"Don't tell me how to fly," Clint returned.

The jet jerked roughly to the right. Tony finally lost his box of tissues and some alarms blared, but Clint shut them off with no small amount of frustration and some notably creative cursing.

Tony spared one expectant look with him. "You're welcome," he said.

"I need to take these fuckers out by hand. Can you pilot for a few?"

"Bruciebear's gonna get so jealous if he hears you said that."

"Can you handle it or not?"

"If you're not sure then why'd you ask me," Tony snapped, manually grabbing control of the Quinjet and transferring everything over to his one puny screen. "Move your tits, birdbrain. We don't have all night."

"Don't use the autopilot," Clint said, shouldering his arrows and grabbing his bow that had been stashed behind his seat. "Just keep her steady and watch your bottom side. This shouldn't take long."

"Just for that I'm putting your room next to Thor's," he called back to Clint. "Asshole…"

"Language," Steve's voice crackled in Tony's ear comm.

"Do we need couples therapy? I think we need couples therapy because I'm having a hard time with this favoritism thing going on. Birdbrain dropped at least three f-bombs within the past five minutes."

"I swear I'm locking the two of you in the nearest closet as soon as we get back to base," Natasha threatened, growling right after as something exploded what sounded like right next to her. "And what happened to multitasking circles around us, Stark? I need cover fire!"

Cover fire. Suit. He could do that.

Drones. Quinjet. He was already doing that.

Headache. Ow. Still dealing with that.

Words. Blinking lights. …ugh- **THINGS.**

Tony blinked furiously, blowing out a breath as he tried to ignore a vicious shiver that crawled right up his spine. "Gimme a sec…"

He took his hand away from the controls of the suit long enough to readjust the ear comm. Sweat beaded along his hairline and at the back of his neck. The urge to vomit all over the console had come out of nowhere because suddenly he didn't know which way was up or down. It was like being stuck on one of those terribly hokey but effective amusement rides whose sole purpose was to make you puke up your guts where all the cotton candy, popcorn, funnel-cake and candy apple goodness settled and _soured_. And the best part was Tony hadn't been able to keep anything down all freaking day, so he didn't realize he was compensating for the dizziness until the Quinjet screamed different and more obnoxious warnings at him.

Oh so helpfully, Clint and Steve simultaneously decided to start screaming at him through the ear comm because he was about to nose-plant into the glacier.

"Shit-shit-shit," he cursed, ripping out the earpiece, switching the controls to manual, and yanking up hard on the throttle.

He might have hit the very tip of it— _might have_. But the jet stabilized, and he knew he hadn't lost Clint because the assassin stomped his way back up the open ramp minutes later. Tony noticed his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself down from the adrenaline rush, but that only made the fever and his stomach worse. He fucking hated night/snow missions. Never again—

"Did you fall asleep," Clint freaked. "What the shit was that?!"

"You cosplaying Legolas," Tony tried to joke, but quickly dissolved into a coughing fit.

"That's the last time I let you fly when you're sick," the assassin grumbled as he sat down and commandeered the controls back into his own hands. "Steve's pissed. You are totally getting benched after this."

Tony groaned after clearing his throat and sniffling. "The drama queen just got a little _dizzy_. I wasn't-"

" _Vertigo?_ That's kind of useful information for us to know, you fucking idiot."

"Jury's out," he sighed, laying back in his seat and wrapping his arms tightly around himself to keep from visibly shaking with the chilled air. "Along with my body's ability to thermo-regulate too. Can you just shut the fucking door?"

Clint snickered. "I am so going to enjoy dragging your ass to medical when we get back."

"The shit you are, Barton."

"You should be happy. Fury might actually leave you alone for a while after this."

It was a tell as to how shitty he felt that Tony could only muster a soft "Uh-huh…" as he braced himself against the console when Clint gunned it back to pick the rest of the team up.

* * *

Pepper hadn't really believed it when Tony told her, not until she saw the evidence for herself the next morning.

She'd been so intent on catching Tony in another lie to cover for getting back on the wagon with his alcohol problem that she didn't really plan for the small chance that the man was actually sick. The thing was Tony _never_ got sick so his medical history technically supported her expectation. She had even planned for exactly how she was going to rip him a new one this time because she was so god damned done with all of it that she even drafted a resignation letter to hand to him. So when she entered the penthouse to find the bar still empty and the man in question curled up in bed shivering beneath multiple blankets and hacking into a pillow, she had been rendered completely speechless.

It was the happiest delivery order she had ever placed for fruit, vegetables, and over the counter medicine ever.

That had been yesterday.

Today was a different story, because:

 _ **Tony:**_ _Help_

As per usual, Pepper doesn't let more than a few seconds go by, despite the mountain range of emails between meetings she was currently dealing with.

 _ **Pepper:**_ _Are we talking life in general help or did you blow something up in the workshop again?_

A few minutes pass with no response.

 _ **Pepper:**_ _Because you should be nowhere_ near _the workshop in your condition._

A few more…

 _ **Pepper:**_ _Tony._

A couple more…

 _ **Pepper:**_ _Tell me you didn't._

Thirty seconds…

 _ **Pepper:**_ _Answer your texts, please._

Less than twenty—

 _ **Pepper:**_ _Happy and I are coming over._

 _ **Pepper:**_ _I swear if this is some ploy for attention I_ will _hand you that resignation letter I drafted yesterday._

 _ **Pepper:**_ _And I'm not kidding._

Strapped into the backseat of an Audi, Pepper ignored Happy angrily shouting at other New York drivers and called J.A.R.V.I.S.'s direct line.

"Good morning, Miss Potts," the A.I. greeted. "How can I—"

"Wellness check," she forcefully interrupted, fingers turning white under the pressure of holding the phone aloft. "Emergency code thirteen, passcode six five seven three."

Happy blared the car horn and cursed. "Come on— _You live here!_ "

"Happy," Pepper said, reaching forward to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder through the opened privacy window. "Calm down. Please?"

Happy deflated marginally and instead resorted to growling, which Pepper knew wouldn't last for long. She exhaled and stared at the crawling traffic in disappointment. She may be Pepper Potts and her salary may rival an international pop star, but she could only handle one crisis at a time.

"Sir is currently resting on the couch in the living area," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. "His last dosage of cough medicine was taken approximately forty minutes ago."

"Is he having an allergic reaction," Pepper asked, trying not to panic.

"No, Miss Potts."

"Did he take too much?"

"No Miss Potts."

"And there was no accident in the workshop?"

"No, Miss Potts."

Pepper sighed and ran her free hand through her hair. Then, after biting her lip she took a deep breath before asking the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to. "Is he drinking again?"

"No, Miss Potts."

"Okay, well, is he choking on his own vomit? Do you know what's wrong with him J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"It appears as if Sir is still battling the same virus he has been all week. However, his body temperature is currently dropping below what is considered normal."

Pepper stared. " _Dropping._ Not rising?"

"Correct."

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Happy and I will be there in a few minutes. Get the medical team on standby just in case."

"In current traffic I estimate your arrival time to be approximately six and a half minutes. All emergency medical staff are expected to arrive within ten to fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Pepper replied. "Call me if anything changes."

"Of course, Miss Potts."

True to the A.I.'s prediction Pepper and Happy pulled into the tower's basement six minutes later, only because of the numerous traffic laws Happy broke to cut off as much time as he could. Once in the elevator it immediately ascended to the penthouse without any need for voice command or recognition. Pepper exhaled and wondered what excuse she was going to use to the Secretary of Defense this time.

"He's probably fine," Happy reassured. "Doesn't he get…like…needy when he gets sick? Clingy? Isn't that the word for—"

" _Happy_ —"

"Shutting up."

When the doors opened her legs had gone on autopilot. She came to an abrupt stop and stepped back out of fright right into Happy as she cried out, hands flying to cover her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes and her heart stopped at the sight of Tony lying there pale as death. Happy cursed from behind her and removed his hands from her arms to get around her and over to his boss.

 _This was her worst nightmare-their worst nightmare-finding him one day like this because they failed to—_ "Pep, calm down," Happy said. "He's breathing.

"Oh my God. Oh my God, he's breathing," she gasped, lightheaded. "Why does he…I don't…"

"Tony," Happy called at the same time, shaking him and slapping his cheeks. " _Ton—_ …"

Pepper forced herself to breathe and approach the pair when she saw Happy hesitate, her stomach dropping for the third time that morning. "What is it?"

Happy looked at her in confusion, and beckoned her closer. "Come here and feel him."

She did and placed a hand against his cheek, yanking it back in shock. "How—He's like _ice_ ," Pepper exclaimed. "Literal ice!"

"Yeah—no ssshhit," Tony finally muttered through clenched teeth.

"Tony," Pepper exclaimed again. "Tony, can you hear me?"

"Kinda…"

"Open your eyes, boss," Happy demanded. "You don't pay us to get this freaked out."

"Whas…" Tony mumbled, trying and failing to open his eyes, appearing weak as a newborn kitten. "Whs't so cold…"

"If he's freezing shouldn't he _not_ be sweating," Happy asked.

"He needs a doctor," Pepper decided. "Happy, can you carry him?"

The man stared, wide-eyed. "Uhhhhhhh, I can try."

Pepper rolled her eyes and yanked off her new Jimmy Choo ankle boots and tossed aside her Armani blazer. If she'd known today would have necessitated the need for pants instead of a high-waist knee-length pencil skirt ensemble she would have worn her damned tracksuit. "Grab his arms," she no-nonsense ordered to Happy. "I'll get his legs. Jarvis have the med staff meet us at the elevator doors and take us down to the Medbay!"

"They are arriving as we speak, Ms. Potts," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied as soon as the elevator doors closed around them.

"Stop staring at me, Happy," Pepper groused, adjusting Tony's weight in her arms.

"I'm not staring. I mean, yeah, I'm staring, but not staring like creepy staring-"

"What other kind of staring is there?"

"Didn't know you worked out. That's all."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Please. How else am I supposed to fit into a size four?"

"I thought you said you were a six?" Happy asked without thinking.

Once the doors opened up the med team was waiting with a stretcher that Pepper and Happy wasted no time hauling Tony up onto. From there the team tore him away from them and off to one of the rooms to work. Pepper stared after them, until Happy snapped her out of it and pushed her gently out of the elevator. She pulled her vibrating phone out of her side pocket and frowned at the incoming call from Legal. Right, there was a meeting scheduled. She declined it and cleared her schedule as well as Tony's and Happy's for the rest of the day. She tagged them all with a level ten security clearance which no one else had access to override except Tony himself. After a brief conversation with her assistant and getting him up to speed on all that needed to happen in her absence, there was nothing left to do but to wait.

Hours passed.

Test after test was done.

Happy had gone at some point and returned with a blanket and cup of tea for Pepper. And he also brought down her shoes and blazer, though she touched neither. After he was done with pacing the length of the hallway he sat next to her and put his arm around her. She leaned into him and took comfort from the additional warmth. She didn't look him in the eyes because if she did she actually would break down and cry.

"Miss Potts," Helen called softly, from the doorway.

Pepper shot up and crossed over to the door, blanket tossed right over Happy's head by accident. She tried to peer around the SHIELD doctor to get a glimpse of Tony, but they must have had him at the other end of the emergency room because she couldn't see him. Pepper finally met Helen Cho's gaze and prepared herself for the worst. Helen was new to their roster, new to SHIELD's as well, which had been the main reason Tony had tried to poach her before the woman could get too comfortable. It had been so soon after the break up that Pepper couldn't help but selfishly think at first it was because Tony was attracted to her, but she quickly learned it wasn't the case. The multiple PhDs and the Forbes write up gave it away. Helen had a kind demeanor about her as well, but when it was Tony himself under her care it did nothing to make Pepper feel any better about the situation.

"Just tell me he's not dying," Pepper begged. "Please."

"Every test I'm running is coming back clean," Helen assuaged. "As far as we can tell this is just a virus, unusual to say the least with the absence of fever, but it's not unheard of either."

"I don't…" Pepper started. "I don't understand any of this-I mean, how is he even alive with his body temperature being so low?"

Helen looked at her in confusion. "His body temperature is the lowest that's livable for a normal human being. He's on the colder side, yes, but-"

Pepper shook her head. "You don't understand-when we touched him it was like touching literal ice. How can every test you're doing be coming back with nothing abnormal-this is the most abnormal thing that I've ever seen, even for…" She trailed off, suddenly remembering Tony's bout with the palladium poisoning and the corrective steps he took after it.

"What is it," Happy asked.

"Is this related to the arc reactor," Pepper asked. "Could that be doing this to him? Is it a reaction with the new element he used?"

"We haven't ruled it out yet, but all of our indications are pointing towards no."

Pepper sighed in frustration and turned away, putting her face in her hands.

"Do you think we should contact SHIELD," Happy asked. "Ms. Potts?"

"No," Pepper eventually said. "Not without Tony's permission."

"Mr. Stark hasn't been conscious for hours, Ms. Potts," Helen reminded. "We're trying our best, but he may not regain consciousness for some time. SHIELD may have other resources we can utili-"

"I don't care," Pepper decided. "If Tony can't tell me with a clear head that he wants SHIELD running tests on him, then we're not doing it. That's a line I won't cross."

Helen nodded, resigned. "We'll keep trying. I'll let you know if anything changes."

The doctor disappeared back into the emergency room and Pepper deflated.

"Why don't I go get us some food," Happy suggested.

"You know we can have that delivered in minutes, Happy…"

"I know," the man shrugged. "But it would be something to do…"

"Then don't get anything for me. I'm not hungry."

"He wouldn't want you to not eat, Pepper."

Pepper turned to face him with a challenging glare, but Happy was unmoved.

"And I don't either," he said, softer.

A little part of her melted inside at the worry, and it caught her by surprise. She knew she would get a migraine later from all the stress, as was usual, and especially if she didn't eat. Tony's approach to her migraines had been hands off (or as hands off as he let himself be), all at her request. And more than once he'd ripped a few executives to pieces for questioning a couple of much needed days off to recover afterwards.

Happy seemed like the type who would be more hands on, and for some reason Pepper wasn't entirely put off by it.

"Raspberry protein shake," she eventually relented.

"You got it," Happy said with a smile as he turned to go.

After he left, Pepper's mood plummeted again. She went back to the nearest window and stared down at Manhattan rush hour. How in the world was she supposed to tell Tony?

* * *

"Severe case of the flu," Tony droned, dark bags under his eyes. "Seriously?"

Helen pursed her lips in mild embarrassment and shrugged her shoulders a little bit. "You can review the transcript of all we did, Mr. Stark. There was no other explanation. None that we could surmise, enhanced individual or not."

Tony was floored, and he was sure it must have shown despite his usual poker face, but to be fair he had been out for over forty-eight hours. Pepper was seated next to him sporting some dark bags of her own, though nearly expertly hidden under some more make up than she typically wore. Standing next to her was Rhodey in his military uniform, and behind them both was Happy with his hands shoved into his pockets. The energy about the room was tense with worry. Usually a few cracked jokes would dispel it with ease, but Tony was even too tired for that.

When he came back into consciousness and discovered he wasn't in his own bed but in the Medbay his mind had been slow at first to recognize where he actually was. When Pepper told him they found him on the couch in the living area he was surprised that he had no memory of even getting out of bed that morning. _That scared him._ And he wasn't afraid to admit that because his mind was the one thing he prided himself in above all else. Not remembering how he got from point a to point b was not okay.

"Hold up," Rhodey said, brow furrowing at the numbers. "This is _his_ blood-work? These are perfect numbers."

Tony wanted to say something snarky and smart, but could only settle for a mild glare.

"They ran it ten times," Pepper supplied.

"Not like I'm complaining," Tony said. "But isn't that a little weird?"

"It is," Helen agreed. "But that's not the strangest part. The virus looks like it's a strain of Influenza B. You did get your vaccine this year, but the virus is interacting directly with your DNA."

"Sounds like it _shouldn't_ be," Rhodey commented. "Right?"

"No, Influenza is an RNA based virus that doesn't have self-correcting capabilities. For some reason this one does."

"I'm confused," Pepper said. "So is it not the flu? Because this sounds more serious than the flu.."

"It…appears like the flu, it's just not behaving as it should if it were purely influenza. I will admit that this is an area that I'm no expert in. And I'd like the chance to further study it as long as I have your permission Mr. Stark?"

"Have at it," he shrugged, blowing his nose.

"So what does this mean in the meantime," Pepper asked. "Should he be taking anything?"

"As far as I can tell, the best case scenario is the virus will pass on its own in a few more days as it currently looks to be at peak reproduction stage. Continuing self care like medicine for the cough, eating healthy, and staying hydrated is your best plan of attack."

"And worst case scenario," Tony groaned, weakly pushing himself more upright against the pillows.

"To put it simply… we may be dealing with something that's not a virus," Helen said. "And if it is, I would be hard pressed to find a colleague who could help."

A silence fell over the room after that, but Tony wasn't fazed. "I think it's time for reinforcements," he said.

"I'm afraid to ask, but what does that mean," Pepper hazarded.

A couple of days, a long-distance phone call, and a first class plane ticket later, Bruce Banner stepped through the elevator into the penthouse living area to find Tony tapping away at a Stark tablet. His clothes were a little tattered and dirty, and he had a bit of a tan on top of his hair being a bit longer and more shaggy than usual. "Wow," Bruce said, unable to even put his bag down. "You look like shit."

Tony snorted-because, _really?_ -and quickly regretted it when he devolved into a wet hacking fit. "You sound like Clint," he said after a while. "What did you think I was yanking your chain?"

"I mean, a little bit, yeah," he said, kneeling down next to him. "But jeez, Tony. When was the last time you got any sleep?"

"Kind of don't want to answer that."

And he really didn't because the reason why he was propped up on the couch in the penthouse instead of downstairs was because he had finally managed to sneak out, with a little help from J.A.R.V.I.S. Nobody had been happy when they found out, and to their credit it only took half an hour before they noticed, but Tony needed a change of scenery after…was it four or five days? The fact that he couldn't remember was proof enough that the jailbreak had been necessary. Besides, the cell reception was faster up here-which he had to remember to fix at some point. And his MIT alumni hoodie was the warmest thing he had in his closet right now with it still being late _July_.

"Uh-huh. Let's get you back down to the Medbay," Bruce proposed. "I want to look at your vitals."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

Undeterred, Bruce snatched his tablet and put it down on the coffee table. "Do I need to carry you down?"

"No…" he sighed, pushing the mountain of blankets off of him and swinging his legs over the side. He stopped abruptly, a hand shooting out for balance, that Bruce readily caught. "Okay, maybe, just an arm would—"

Without a word, Bruce ducked under Tony's left arm and pulled him to his side as they stood and slowly made their way towards the elevator. "How long have you been like this?"

"Week three? I don't really know…"

"Sounds like a long time for the flu."

"You're telling me."

"Lemme guess. You broke Netflix?"

Tony burst into laughter, unable to remember the last time he did so as the elevator doors closed behind them. He grabbed onto the rail against the far wall when he felt the rapid descent, despite Bruce's promise that he had Tony's weight. God, he missed his science bro. He should have thought ahead and gotten some puns together.

The ride was a short one, and too soon Bruce was dragging him to turn around and head down the hall toward a room and a bed. There were a couple of stand-by attendants in who quickly moved to help Bruce get Tony onto a bed. When they got the billionaire settled, Bruce busied himself by directing the attendants to get tests and equipment ready.

"Have you seen a doctor already, Tony," Bruce asked, pulling up his medical file on a 3D tablet.

Tony raised a bored eyebrow. "Am I Tony freaking Stark? I've seen the best there is and she's stumped," he complained, adjusting a pillow. "Why the hell do you think I called you?"

"What kind of tests did she run?"

"The whole god-damned gamut. It's in there somewhere… I'm cancer-free, no icky autoimmune bullshit, heart's peachy-keen, brain's as geniousy as ever, and blood-work is so normal my liver is offended."

"Yeah, well, we're doing it all over, just to be sure."

"I am so telling Cho that you trashed all her hard work."

"There are such things as false-positives, Tony," he said, laying the tablet aside to take his blood pressure.

Tony opened his eyes and looked over at the scientist, his tone accusatory and not in the least bit worried. "You think I have cancer, don't you?"

Bruce raised both of his hands. "I don't know what you have, but we're going to figure it out. So suck it up, because you're the one who called me."

"Yeah for the abnormal shit, not the normal shit."

Once Bruce got him all hooked up his eyelids disappeared and his eyebrows rose in unison at the readings. "Whoa. Your… _everything_ is in the toilet."

"That's so specific and helpful," Tony said with his eyes closed.

"Stay here. I'm just going to get some blood tests ready, okay?"

" _My favorite_."

* * *

Bruce read through Helen Cho's notes and was scratching his head by the end of it. There was no possible way this was the flu, symptoms aside. Sure it looked like it, but the flu virus did not behave the way this one was behaving. And to top it off he just got the new blood numbers back…

"You're quiet," Tony accused. "What, do I have perfect blood-work again?"

"Yeah," Bruce mused. "You do…"

"You know, for the record, I'm totally over being a medical mystery. Not all its cracked up to be."

"No kidding," Bruce muttered, sighing in frustration and trying to put the puzzle pieces together as he rubbed hands down his face. "Where's Cho? You give her the day off?"

Silence greeted him, so Bruce turned around. Sparing a quick glance over at the man he saw Tony had fallen asleep, his head turned to the side in what looked like an uncomfortable position. He opened his mouth to wake the billionaire, and maybe give him a hard time for falling asleep mid-conversation, but then the alarms started blaring.

"Oh shit," he cursed, jumping out of his seat and calling out to Tony while he got an oxygen mask fitted over his face. One of the attendants came back and Bruce shouted at her to get an IV port into Tony while he lunged for a stethoscope to listen to his heart.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. can you get Helen Cho on the line for me, _now,"_ Bruce called. "It's an emergency!"

"Just a moment, Dr. Banner," the A.I. responded.

"Dr. Banner," a female voice answered a few minutes later.

"Hi," He said, rushed. "Sorry we haven't formally met, but I'll buy you a drink later if that's okay. Listen, I've got Tony in the Medbay and I was running some tests and he passed out on me. His blood pressure is tanking along with everything else. Has he been passing out like this? There's no record of that in your notes."

Helen sighed sadly. "No, I'm afraid that's new. Miss Potts and Mr. Hogan found him passed out on the couch the first day but since he regained consciousness he's had no instances of it."

"Great," Bruce replied. "How soon can you get over here?"

"It will take some time as I'm currently working on a project for SHIELD," she said quietly. "Miss Potts and Mr. Stark requested I not inform SHIELD of his illness and if I leave too soon it may arouse their suspicions."

Bruce sighed. _Count backwards from ten…_ "Alright, get here when you can. I'll text you any _updates_ …" He hadn't meant to let his surprise color his tone as he trailed off, but when he'd lifted Tony's right eye to have another look at his pupils he couldn't help it at what he saw.

"What is it," Helen asked.

"It's faint, but… there's a red ring around his irises."

A short pause. "That's most definitely _not_ related to influenza and also not good…"

"Yeah, definitely not…"

* * *

 **A/N: Had to cut and move some material to the next chapter for things to fit and also still make sense. AGAIN. Big chapters are just going to be my eternal problem and we're going to have to accept that. I'll admit I wikipedia'd some medical stuff here. I'm not an expert on illnesses, so if there's any glaring mistakes just let me know. Enjoy the read! EDIT: Chapter updated to better reflect how the flu works from someone with more medical knowledge than I! Thanks again!**


	7. A breath of winter

**CHAPTER SEVEN – A breath of winter**

Fuuuuuck…

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…

Was that himself groaning? Of course it was. Why should he be surprised?

"Tony?"

Jesus, didn't they know he had the world's worst hangover headache? They didn't need to shout for fuck's sake. Just like that incessant beeping was shouting a hole right into his fucking brain.

Tony opened his eyes and squinted at the light. He tried to move an arm to block the brightness, but a warm firm and gentle hand encircled his wrist and kept him from doing so. A moment later the brightness was gone. Apparently Bruce had a light pointed right at his face for some reason. Maybe that was why he had a headache. It still pounded though, so maybe not.

"Sorry about that," Bruce greeted with a tired expression. "Welcome back."

"Where'd I go," Tony rasped, inevitably coughing from the dryness in his throat.

Bruce helped him drink some water. After he was done, Tony noticed his nose wasn't running a river of snot anymore. He felt a little congested, but not to the point of only being able to breathe through his mouth. He also took note of the warming blankets draped over him in the Medbay bed and wondered whether he still had a fever anymore.

"You've been out for fifteen hours," Bruce recounted. "It's about four in the morning."

Tony frowned in confusion. "What the hell happened? Weren't you just doing a freaking blood test or something?"

"I was. And then you passed out on me."

Tony tried to push himself upright, but settled for propping himself up on his elbows. Bruce hovered with worry. "Were you reciting one of your dissertations," Tony joked.

Bruce huffed some laughter and sat back, a little more relaxed. "Uh—No. Though if I did I doubt your blood pressure would have done that much of a dramatic swoon. How are you feeling right now? Dizzy? Fine?"

Tony thought about it. "Slow… cold… Headache's a lot better though."

Bruce frowned at him.

"What?"

"You're really not dizzy like that? At all?"

"Nope?"

Wordlessly, Bruce inclined the bed forward so that Tony was sitting almost entirely upright. "What about now?"

"Fine," Tony groaned in relief, not one to complain because hey no more headache, but it was Bruce's expression that made him stop and consider that maybe that wasn't such a good thing. "You're giving me the look that I'm defying all medical knowledge known to man."

"You kind of are, which is what's frustrating. But you want to know the actual weird part? The one thing that got you to come back around wasn't oxygen or sugar or any of the normal things you give to a person when their blood pressure drops. It was warm saline…"

Tony spared a brief glance at the IV in his arm and rather than try to parcel out Bruce's meaning on his own, because he literally just woke up and he'd kind of like to go right back to sleep, he settled for, "I don't get it."

" _Warm_ saline, Tony. Your core body temperature dropped like someone dunked you in a frozen lake. You started developing symptoms of hypothermia, so I had to make a judgment call… and it worked."

As far as Tony knew he hadn't suffered any brain damage, and he was starting to catch on to Bruce's double-meaning. That didn't make it any less…well, freaky. "Bruce, it's _July_."

Bruce steadily stared back at him. "I know. And your eyes…well. Jarvis, pull up that retina picture, please."

A second later a picture of an eye, Tony's eye specifically, with a red ring around the iris had his jaw slacken and his heart skip a beat because though it looked badass when you add it to his other weirdo symptoms it was just the icing on top of the proverbial shit cake.

"This was you for the past twelve hours," Bruce relayed. "It's gone now, but I have no idea what it was. Once I started you on the warm saline, it went away."

A chill crept up Tony's spine, and not because he was cold this time. "Bruce. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?"

Four days after that Bruce still didn't have an answer, even when Tony additionally started to throw up every afternoon _and_ evening. He knew it worried the scientist a lot that he was barely able to keep anything down, but anything aside from blueberries, chicken broth, and Ritz crackers triggered instant and violent nausea, so he wasn't keen on deviating much if he could help it. Because his diet was suddenly so limited, he also inevitably started to lose weight, which made for some heated arguments with Pepper and Rhodey. Once he even forced actual food down that they brought him just to prove a point, and predictably an hour later it _all_ came right back up.

He was actually kind of pissed at Rhodey for it, because there was no chance in hell he was going to eat a cheeseburger with fries again anytime soon.

Tony didn't have the heart to tell Thor he wasn't getting any better. They'd gotten to the point where they only texted a few times a day instead of a few times an hour and part of Tony was afraid that if he actually told the big guy the truth then he'd have to turn the damned thing off just to be able to sleep. And that was the other thing; Tony just wanted to sleep.

 _All the time_.

Convincing Bruce to let him sleep upstairs in his own bed was easy, but when Tony started averaging fifteen to twenty hours of sleep a day Bruce started getting a little more pushy about Tony's daily TV schedule (since that was all anybody would let him do). Tony argued that if they'd just let him work on some projects then maybe his brain would keep him awake for more than five hours at a time, but nobody listened to him. Once, and only once, Bruce caught him making suit modifications in the lab. It was out of spite, yes, but it was also to prove a god damned point. The point just didn't work out in Tony's favor because he had started nodding off and apparently had been two seconds away from electrocuting himself.

So now he was back to rewatching the episodes of Boardwalk Empire he kept falling asleep in the middle of.

In several layers of clothing.

Under several blankets.

And with a mug of hot freaking chocolate like it was fucking Christmas or something.

Tony had been skeptical of the chocolate at first, but Bruce had started forcing small foods and different drinks on him every day for the past week. Hot chocolate was the newest addition to the list of things that didn't make Tony instantly puke. It was dark chocolate with mini marshmallows, because if Tony couldn't stomach marshmallows of all things then he wasn't drinking the fucking chocolate. Because who in their right mind had hot chocolate without marshmallows? Weirdos, that's who.

As another bootlegger bit the dust on the TV in front of him, he sighed and adjusted the work tablet in front of him. He knew he was getting depressed from not being able to work in his shop for the past few weeks. There was only so much digital drafting he could take before he needed to construct something with his hands. He felt completely useless lying in bed like this. And he knew for a fact that while he was finally at a point where he could answer his normal 500 emails in one day from the company, Pepper was starting to get a little irritated with his micromanaging.

What else was he supposed to stay occupied with?

" _You like that baby_ ," a woman whined from the show. " _MmmmMMMmm—_ "

Tony pulled a face and hit the mute button right before the couple in the show started to really go at it.

Laying back against the pillows, he adjusted the blanket burrito he was in and fished for his phone. Not for the first time he scrolled through the previous text history between him and Loki that he'd been able to salvage through his cloud storage. Tony still felt incredibly guilty for that night. He didn't regret what they did at all, but he hated knowing it was his fault that the god was back in a jail cell. And for no fucking good reason other than keeping Tony from either ending up a human pancake or a pile of choked vomit somewhere.

Thor didn't talk much about his brother these days. A couple of times the god of thunder even bristled at Tony bringing the matter up, so Tony reluctantly stopped bringing it up. But he didn't stop thinking about it, and he certainly didn't stop trying to figure out a solution.

If only his brain didn't turn into mush after just a few hours…

* * *

Bruce stared at the screen in front of him that was displaying perfect thyroid numbers, his chin propped up lazily on his left hand with said left elbow braced on the workstation in front of him. Out of maybe a little bit of childish annoyance he flicked his pen at the screen. It bounced off with a soft series of plastic clacks until it landed innocently on the floor by his foot. Somewhere inside of him the big guy chuckled in amusement.

"Dr. Banner," J.A.R.V.I.S. addressed. "I do not believe physical violence will make the numbers you are currently reviewing subject to change."

Bruce sighed and subbed his eyes as he sat back. "You sure know how to suck the fun out of things, don't you, Jarvis?"

"I am programmed to do so on occasion."

Bruce grabbed his water bottle and a family-sized bag of veggie chips. As he dove into the bag he checked on Tony through the security feeds and was unsurprised to find him in bed fast asleep with the same episode from season two on again. He checked the time log for how long Tony had stayed awake today and was disappointed to see the numbers continuing to fall. Today the billionaire had barely made it four hours before he was out like a light.

Bruce had consulted with Cho time and again, but she was just as stumped as he was, and he was not willing to accept sudden onset narcolepsy as an answer, especially when it was getting harder and harder to wake Tony up. Bruce had a gut feeling the lowered body temperature and symptoms of hypothermia had something to do with the oversleeping, which meant, "It has to be DNA related because we've ruled everything else out," he muttered in between chips. "Jarvis, just out of curiosity, what's Tony's genetic ancestry?"

"Predominantly European, Dr. Banner," the A.I. responded.

"Show me the make up?"

The results appeared on his screen a moment later.

 _ **36% Italy**_

 _ **22% Ireland Scotland**_

 _ **17% Eastern European**_

 _ **11% German**_

 _ **7% Switzerland**_

 _ **4% France**_

 _ **3% Other Trace Regions**_

Bruce frowned at the normalcy. "What's included in the trace regions?"

 _ **(Greece, Turkey, Scandinavia)**_

"And that tells me nothing," Bruce sighed, glancing at the security footage again out of habit. He sat up straighter in his seat when he saw the bed unoccupied and the blankets strewn about. "Jarvis, where's Tony?"

"Currently in the master bathroom vomiting into the toilet," the A.I. replied.

"Great," the scientist groused as he got up and strode towards the elevator.

The scientist leaned against the wall as the elevator took him up to the penthouse. Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed the side of his head. Normally, he loved figuring things out, especially things that were outside the range of normal, because he himself was the epitome of not normal.

But he really didn't like turning his friends into experiments.

And that was exactly what this was, necessary, but still an experiment.

The primary problem was Tony didn't trust SHIELD. Bruce didn't blame him. But the billionaire's only other option aside from publicly trying to bring the world's best doctors together right now was Bruce. And Bruce's medical knowledge was limited. They needed to start thinking of bringing someone else into the fray, but Bruce was at a loss for who because if Tony didn't want SHIELD then he sure as hell wouldn't accept any military help. And being sworn to a vow of secrecy from Pepper and Rhodey didn't sit well in his gut either.

As Bruce approached the master suite he heard one of the man's retches. The familiar sour smell permeated the bathroom and though there were fans installed to keep the air fresh Bruce wondered if there wouldn't be permanent trace smells if they ever got Tony back to normal. Bruce knelt down next to the man and placed a supportive hand on his heaving shaking back, ignoring the more prominent feel of the man's spine and ribcage.

"Hey. Chocolate not working out," Bruce asked, wincing at his poor attempt at comfort.

"I give up," Tony moaned into the toilet bowl. "I give up! I can't… I just _can't_."

"I know—"

"No, you fucking don't," Tony snapped, weakly pounding on the toilet seat with the bottom of his palm.

Bruce grabbed it and held him down. "Easy. Calm down for me, okay—take a couple of breaths. It's just chocolate."

Bruce kept his hand on his friend's back and even started to rub it back and forth. That seemed to do the trick because Tony instantly deflated and shakily tried to pull himself back together. After a few minutes he sat up and let Bruce help him clean up. After the toilet was flushed and Tony was sitting on the closed seat staring off into space, Bruce decided to take the time to clean the washrag, and give the billionaire some time to reorient himself.

"I'm so tired all the time… _and weak_ ," Tony whispered. "I fucking hate this."

"Tell you what," Bruce proposed, hanging up the washrag to dry. "I haven't done a urine test in a while. And you look like you need another IV anyway. Why don't you come down to the lab with me and we'll see if anything's drastically different?"

Tony regarded him with some deserved skepticism. "Am I gonna pass out again?"

"That's why I proposed a urine test and not a blood test."

Tony shook his head, but not in disagreement. "I go through five of those super-sized water bottles a day… why do I still need an IV?"

"I know you're trying to keep hydrated, but your body's burning through it like you're in a desert climate."

"Which makes so much sense with me sitting here in _layers_ of fleece pajamas," Tony groused with a glare. "I think L. 's afraid I'm gonna to buy them out at this rate."

Bruce smiled, his heart surprisingly warmed. "In case you didn't notice, after all that snark you just laid on me, you're still _you_ despite whatever this is, Tony."

Tony turned to him, thought about it for a moment, and eventually whispered, "Thanks, Bruce."

Any small amount of relief that Bruce could bring Tony made the scientist feel like they were making progress. Offering Tony reassurance that things were still the same despite all the changes and stallings wasn't the best white lie Bruce had ever told, but there was a basis of truth to it. And that truth was that whatever this thing was it was not changing Tony's personality. If it began to, Bruce thought that would probably be the impetus for him throwing in the towel and calling in major back up. He just hoped they'd never got to that point.

* * *

Tony Stark could count on one hand the number of occasions he had to pee in a cup (actual number of times aside). And he had been proud that those specific occasions were limited to one hand. As Bruce took the plastic cup to be analyzed he glared at the offending container. Using two hands to keep track of that particular bit of personal history kind of negated the point.

But whatever.

Tony had already won the argument to sit at a work desk instead of lying down in the medbay bed. He cautiously popped some blueberries from a jumbo-sized farm fresh container into his mouth and sipped gingerly on some V8 berry juice. In the past blueberries hadn't bothered him much post-puke sessions, and he was only doing it because Bruce had been giving him the look again about food. It wasn't his fault his stomach growled and gurgled nearly 24/7. He actually considered it an accomplishment that he could finally sleep even with hunger pains.

It all did scare him.

Wasting away like he was definitely had never been on his bucket list. Even when he was a prisoner in Afghanistan he had been able to keep heartier food down. Sure he lost a bit of weight back then, and even built some muscle from it, but this kind of weight loss was dangerously close to a breaking point for him. He waylaid both Rhodey and Pepper on a daily basis because he knew the sight of himself would upset them. And he could tell Bruce was nearing his own limit. Tony appreciated all the effort his science bro put in for him, but maybe at some point Tony had to consider admitting that maybe this was beyond them both—

"What the…" Bruce breathed slowly.

"Oh joy," Tony sing-songed. "What's different today, McDreamy?"

Bruce didn't bite at the joke. He was deathly silent and staring at the screen in disbelief, slowly shaking his head. Then he flung a hand out, pointing towards Tony somewhat franticly. "Stop-stop drinking that. We're doing another test."

Tony raised an eyebrow, mid-sip. "Why?"

Without a response Bruce snatched the juice he was currently sipping and replaced it with a fresh water bottle. A snarky reply was on the tip of his tongue, but stayed there when he saw Bruce pouring some of the juice into a container to be analyzed too. Several minutes and some unsatisfying results later, Bruce growled and dumped the juice.

Then, he made a wordless beeline for Tony again and snatched the carton of blueberries. Tony made a noise of protest, mouth full of them, but promptly spat them out when Bruce barked at him to do so. Several more minutes later Bruce did the same thing and had a moment of wanting to trash the rest of the blueberries he didn't use, but Tony snatched it back from him.

Tony, again, peed in a cup and handed it to the scientist who practically yanked it out of his hand the second he exited the adjoining bathroom. It was all so weird, but new and interesting so that made up for the weirdness, and especially if Bruce was actually on to something this time.

Tony just hated the waiting

Returning to his new suit specs, he busied himself with puzzling over how he could implement nanotechnology in a way that could actually be useful. He kept blinking, forcing the slow cogs of his brain to work. He jerked awake a moment later, or maybe it was minutes, he'd never know, and glanced over to Bruce who was staring at new results on the screen again. Same as before, the scientist was staring open-mouthed and in disbelief.

Tony sighed, put down his tablet, and rolled his eyes. "Okay, come on, am I dying or what? Because if I'm not then I'm actually going to be dying from suspense in the next five seconds."

"No… but… Tony, you… see these high levels of progesterone in…"

"…in," Tony prompted. "What? Cancer patients?"

Bruce turned to him in utter confusion. "No, in _pregnant women_."

"Hmm," Tony hummed against his propped hand. "Can't say I've had much of an opportunity to get in touch with my feminine side-but even I know that's _estrogen, Banner-_ "

"Okay aside from the fact that I desperately need to teach you basic human physiology, I'm a nuclear physicist. It doesn't take one of the top doctors in the world like I don't know _Stephen Strange_ to diagnose a _pregnancy_ , Tony."

Tony narrowed his eyes in confusion, but Bruce kept staring back with incredulous severity. Eventually the billionaire held up his hands. "I get it. It's fine. I get it—honestly. I've been asking for it all week with the nuke digs—"

"Tony-"

"I'm sorry, I apologize. Really-"

"Tony-"

"It's a lot to just yank you from your own lab and give you mine play around with-"

"Tony-"

"Multi-million dollar interfaces and perfect bandwidth for days—"

" _Tony_ …" Bruce said with a deep breath, before wheeling himself over. "What happened before all of this? Before you started feeling sick, I mean. Was there anything out of the ordinary you did? Anything you ate or… experimented with? _At all_?"

"You've got to be kidding me, right?"

"At this rate, no, I'm not."

Tony huffed a bit of incredulous laughter at the dead serious tone.

"Tony," Bruce said softly. "I'm _serious_ about this—"

" _How can you be serious_ ," Tony exclaimed. "How in any **realm** of possibility can I have a kid in here? Newsflash, guys have dicks and chicks have… well, you know. And it's not like there's anywhere for it to _come out_ much less _get in_ in the f…"

 _The mixture burned and invaded every single one of his senses as it went down— "Just breathe. Let it pass."— Then there were cool hands on either side of his face and neck. "Relax," Loki whispered. "Let it in."_

" _You don't sober up from two full bottles of Johnny Walker in a few hours."— "Persistent arousal is one of the after-effects."_

 _The overwhelming feeling of fullness. Having that cock so close and the promise of friction and slickness. The broken moan he had so many dreams about— The smell of the pillow. The ripped sheets. The limping— He'd had sex with a god…_

" _Be happy you gods can't get the fucking flu."—"This is_ his _blood-work? These are perfect numbers."_

 _The cool breath on his lips right before—"How—He's like ice!"_

 _The red circle around his own eyes—the red tinge to Loki's eyes in the afterglow—_

Tony didn't gasp out loud. It was more a sudden exhale of surprise when the puzzle pieces fit together, and the inability to draw in breath immediately after. It was impossible… and yet… it fit.

"Tony?"

"Shit…" he whispered, sinking down from the chair to the floor and covering his face with his hands. "…Ffffuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Mind sharing what level of fuck we're talking about," Bruce asked, still seated in his chair.

"Jesus-fuck level of fuck," Tony moaned, his head still in his hands.

"Okay. Well that makes sense and I'm glad we're both finally on the same page."

Without another word or sound Tony got up, yanked open a cabinet in the far corner of the room, and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

"Tony," Bruce warned, crossing over to him with quick strides. "You can't…"

"Can't what? Have a drink to calm down because I just realized I got knocked up by a god? I'm tempted to chug this whole fucking decanter old school with a fucking plastic funnel-"

Bruce shot up and crossed over to Tony, putting a hand over the whiskey glass. "Whoa-whoa, wait, our list of gods is pretty short! Did you and… _Thor?-_ "

"What about thunder-thighs screams my type?-No! Not in a billion God damned years! I'm gonna have nightmares because of that, now!-"

"Okay-okay, was it someone Thor introduced you to from Asgard or …?"

"Kind of."

"Is it someone we know?"

"Kind of."

Bruce regarded him for a moment. "You're being pretty evasive about this."

"Because I'm trying to come up with a way to break this to you without you Hulking out on me," Tony admitted, loosening his tight grip on the whiskey glass and drumming his fingers on the tabletop instead. "I finally replaced the floor from the last time that happened."

"He's pretty wound up already with you dodging the question."

Tony gave a long-suffering sigh. "Just promise- **promise** me you won't hulk out, okay?"

Bruce held up his hands in surrender. "I'm calm. I'm good."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just tell me who it was."

Tony took a breath and let it out. "It was Loki," he said, for the first time out loud.

Bruce stared at him in disbelief. No one spoke for a few minutes, but Tony refused to say anything more to give the man time to process what had just been said. Bruce exhaled, pinched the bridge of his nose, then crossed his arms, his face still contorted in confusion. He started to say something multiple times but stopped to regroup. Eventually he settled for, "Loki?"

"Yeah," Tony confirmed.

" _Loki_ was imprisoned on Asgard for mass murder and world domination."

Tony shrugged. "Parole? I guess? I don't know. He didn't get super specific about how he got here."

" _Just so we're clear_ , we're talking about the Loki who destroyed half of Manhattan, right?"

"Don't know any other, do you?"

Bruce paced, exhaling loudly.

"Did I fill you in on the whole alien-mind-control innocence thing? That's kind of the important part."

"Is he still here?"

"Not anymore. He uh, he peaced out-and by peaced out I mean he didn't kill or maim anybody before he left so-"

" _You're pregnant!_ "

"You promised you wouldn't hulk out on me!"

"I'm not!"

"You're getting green around the edges!"

Bruce forced himself to walk away and take a few deep calming breaths. "Tony," Bruce continued, quieter and with dangerous eyes. "Was this consensual?"

"It was my idea."

"That's not an answer-"

"Yes. I said, yes-every time there was even a question-and if that ventures into the realm of TMI then I'm sorry, but that's the truth, alright?! This wasn't rape or assault. He actually… He was the one who needed some convincing at first. Which I know just makes me sound like some needy-seriously, **please** justcut me off because this is getting TMI for me-"

Bruce sat down, hand in the air as a signal for Tony to stop talking. "How long has this been going on?"

"It was just the one night."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "This was just one night?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck," Tony agreed, feeling his knees get weak. He used the counter of the cabinet behind him to lower himself to the ground. Bruce was still busy processing all that had been said and implied to even notice, but Tony probably preferred it like that because saying it out loud like they both just did was making him lightheaded.

 _Pregnant._

Fuck, it made his brain hurt.

"I…" the scientist eventually said. "I need to run more tests on you."

Tony rubbed a tired hand along the side of his face. "I swear if I have to pee in a cup one more time today—"

"Don't worry, blood tests work too." Bruce sprang up out of his seat and started grabbing items and clearing his workstation of others.

Tony only knew that because he was noting it out of his peripheral vision. "Uh huh."

"I mean this would sort of make sense with all that flu business because if your body _thought_ that it was a virus instead of a fetus—"

"Uh huh," Tony reiterated in a higher, maybe a little crazed, pitch, closing his eyes at the spinning room in front of him.

Bruce paused mid-thought and knelt down next to the billionaire. "Hey, are you freaking out?"

" _Maybe._ "

"We can do this later if you want."

Eventually Tony nodded. "Yeah… lets."

"Do you need to be alone for a bit?"

"That would be good."

"Okay. Let me know when you're ready. But just do me one favor and sit down on the bed instead of the floor for me?"

Tony didn't put up a word of argument when Bruce tugged on his arm, or when he made him sit down on the medbay bed. Maybe it worried Bruce, but Tony couldn't bring himself to care like he normally would. Because if Bruce was right…

The scientist turned to leave him, but Tony grabbed onto his arm. "Can we not… let anybody know about this for now?"

"Of course not. You're the one in control of this. And I'll be here every step of the way. I promise. We don't even… look, the evidence is there but it's _still_ a theory. We'll figure it all out. Rest if you need it. I'm gonna go order some Vietnamese. Maybe we can try getting some noodles or something aside from broth into you."

Tony just nodded and watched his friend leave.

Suddenly, Tony wasn't so tired and fuzzyheaded anymore.

His mind raced and raced and raced in circles, always ending back at the same spot.

 _Right before Tony fell into the oblivion of sleep he heard Loki whisper above his head, "I will miss this."_

* * *

Against his back was a jagged wall of stone, many angles sharp enough to cut. It took him what he supposed was a weeks worth of time to find the most comfortable position, against one of the walls that lined his cell, and a portion of less sharp ground. Some had called it the pitch cell, because it was so dark it was easy to forget that you were once corporeal, that you once had a body. Loki knew he still had one because he could smell the dried blood on his back from all the times he had tried and failed to find something to rest against, to sleep.

This cell he learned of when he was a young boy and one of the guards was drunk. This guard didn't like him. He never liked him. He beckoned to Loki, and with childish curiosity overriding his fear, the boy followed. The guard asked him what he imagined to be the worst prison cell in existence. Loki didn't answer him, thinking the question irrelevant due to its personal basis. The guard looked down on him with a smug smile and opened the door.

That was the first time Loki looked into an unforgiving void of black nothing.

It had haunted his dreams for centuries after that.

Now that he was here as its occupant, even after his fall into an actual void that threatened to tear him to oblivion, he had nightmares, but of something else. These nightmares haunted him when he slept and when he was awake, because they were memories. And these memories were of pain.

Indescribable agony and the loneliest of miseries imaginable.

And a voice that stopped his breath.

A voice that made chills colder than the cold he knew, as the being of an extinct race of frost giants, sink its claws so deep that the smallest hope of ceasing to exist was the unimaginable.

His hands were shaking, rattling the chains in his lap where his wrists lay immobilized. There was blood seeping from his palms where his fingernails cut into the flesh. The scent of fresh blood filled the stifled air.

It was in moments like these that he retreated further into his mind to try and use good memories as a shield. The only thing he had the first time were memories of his mother, of Frigga. All his other memories of Thor, of his home, his conquests and victories turned to ash and spoiled under the influence of The Other. Frigga alone had been the one thing The Other couldn't touch.

And then the Mad Titan did.

And he broke Loki beyond hope.

Thanos made Loki into his marionette, and The Other his puppeteer.

The worst part, aside from fighting to get control of his body back, was that he remembered every life he took and what it felt like.

As was customary with a prisoner, when Thor brought Loki back to Asgard, after his defeat on Midgard, Loki was placed in a holding cell while Odin decided his fate. Loki was contemplating how best to provoke the old man into having him executed outright. At least then the dead voices in his head would cease.

That was when she came to him.

The sight of Frigga brought tears to his eyes, but he held them back, because lies were his craft. And this was a very good one. She spoke words to him. She even sounded like her, but still, Loki remained silent and cold. It wasn't until she knelt down in front of him and touched his cheek that he sucked in a shocked bit of air. The smell and the firmness of the touch were one thing, but the feel of her healing magic working its gentle way into his decimated core was what convinced him.

The tears fell then. "You're alive," he'd asked, already believing and regretting that he needed such affirmation like he was a child.

Frigga looked sad, but she did not look at him like he was broken. "Of course I am," she said. "And so are you. This gladdens me so much."

Part of Loki knew the Mad Titan and The Other's voices in his ear were false, but he simply could not afford to lose someone and thereby himself that way again.

Because of that, he didn't dare to think of Stark in the darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: Y'all. This chapter really kicked my ass, big time. I actually had to delete pages worth of material because they simply didn't fit in the storyline anymore, so that was part of the long ass delay this time. I probably wrote as much as I deleted. Lord. Next chapter may also take me some more time simply just to make the new adjustments I had to make here. Although I'm thinking that plot point may surface much later down the line, like sequel later. Apologies to the people I can't reply back to for comments, but thank you so much for your kind words because they really keep me going. Happy Friday!**


	8. PRT is two letters short of a party

**CHAPTER EIGHT – PRT is two letters short of a party**

Several hours of googling, three embarrassing and secretive phone calls to Helen, and a couple of too-early and stupidly hopeful but inconclusive ultrasounds later they were back at square one, which was the theory that Tony was pregnant with Loki's child.

On the plus side, Tony's diet expanded from blueberries, broth, and crackers to the boring additions of rice, milk, green vegetables, and blackberries. He'd gotten to the point where he stopped losing weight (because he could ill afford to lose any more), but wasn't gaining as much back. And though he was still tired he managed to sleep only twelve hours a day instead of what had become the record, which was twenty. The cold was still a persistent problem with still required IVs of warm saline, but overall it was progress. When he and Bruce had originally put all the pieces together, it made perfect if sadistic sense that the impossible could somehow be possible. And ever since then Tony had been viciously trying to debunk it by ripping gaping holes in the logic and preparing for a terminal cancer diagnosis by spending every day reworking his will before immersing himself in some new suit designs after daily panic attacks that Bruce had to constantly coach him out of.

One might say Tony was in denial.

Because how the fuck else was he supposed to fucking function under the reality of being fucking **pregnant**?

Basic fucking anatomy said they were out of their God damned minds for even considering it as a possibility.

And yet… proving the opposite was becoming more and more difficult with each passing test and each bit of information they could glean from Norse mythology—or history… same fucking thing.

"Tony…" Bruce interrupted softly one day, from the other side of the lab, his tone suspiciously loaded. "Your bloodwork this morning… I found some traces of gamma radiation."

Tony stared. Because he never thought he'd be so happy to say, "So its actually cancer?"

The scary part though was that Bruce didn't answer him at first and instead blew out an exhale of breath and scratched his head-which was telltale Bruce for 'I'm out of my league.' "I think we may need Loki's help with this."

Tony scoffed. "Well that's not happening."

Bruce blinked. "Well it _needs_ to happen."

"In case you forgot, the guy is basically in solitary confinement. I really doubt he's getting out on parole anytime soon. Again."

"Okay, then Thor—"

"Do you **want** to get struck by lightning?—"

"Then _somebody_ who's at least a little bit more familiar with this than I am because you and I may be science bros, Tony, but I've been kind of down one science bro for obvious reasons and not- **not** that I blame you or anything, but even your knowledge is limited, so unless you want to invite Fury over for a nightcap—"

"Oh, _fucking_ —" Tony groaned with a wince.

"Alright-alright, I went to far with that one," Bruce said impatiently waving his hand. "You get the point. The only Asgardians we know are either Thor or—"

" _I know!_ "

Bruce crossed his arms. "So? What do you want to do?"

Tony crossed his too. "Eat an entire fucking pizza, but that's not happening either, is it?"

"What do we need Thor for," Pepper interjected, coming in from the elevator, though how long she'd been there listening to the two of them argue was the real question. "Is this something to do with Tony being sick?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Tony articulately verbalized while Bruce tried to come up with a cover over top of him with, "Well, it's kind of a medically complicated—" "Complex!" "Sort of…" "…Non-businessy thing?"

Pepper was doing that thing she did.

Staring.

With that look.

The look that never needed words.

"Shit," Tony cursed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in defeat.

"You're going to have to tell people eventually, Tony," Bruce said softly to the genius.

"Tell people what," Pepper demanded, stepping farther into the room. "And were you talking about Loki, before?"

"Yeah—this is gonna go over real well. Let's go upstairs, Pep," Tony said in defeat, ushering them both into the elevator.

"Oh this is going to be a long one, isn't it? Just tell me you're not dying…"

"We don't think so?"

Pepper sighed as the doors closed around them. "That would be the literal worst thing in the world you could possibly tell me, you know."

"I might call your bluff on that one."

"Try me."

Tony took a deep breath when they finally sat down on the couch in the living space, knowing he was going to hate every minute of this. "Okay. I guess we might as well start with Loki not being entirely solely responsible for invading earth?—"

"I got that part," Pepper interjected with a raised hand. "Hard as it is for me to believe, and I also can't say I can entirely forgive or even forget about any of that… I understand the facts."

"You get the mind-control part," Tony asked to clarify.

"Yes," Pepper replied, only relaxing slightly, legs crossed at her ankles and hands clasped in her lap.

"Well…" Tony stared at the other side of the room, debating how exactly to… word things. God, what he would fucking give for index cards right about now…

"Tony, if you're going to try and convince me that somehow Loki is a completely different person that's going to be difficult if not impossible for me or anyone to accept."

"I know—and for the record, yes he's different, but not entirely. He's still that snarky, biting, sneaky, slightly condescending…" He faltered as he suddenly remembered Loki's lazy smile, and how long it had been since Tony had seen it. "Um… god. But he's also not _that_ much of an asshole."

Pepper regarded him with raised eyebrows of surprise. "That's a glowing review coming from you…"

Tony tried not to roll his eyes and figured he was only half successful. " _Anyway…_ Thor and I worked on at least trying to get him some sort of reduced sentence since Odin was _kind enough to not_ have him executed for something he didn't willingly do—don't get me started on Asgardian politics because the UN would have a field day. And at the time Thor was being a major pain in the fucking ass—I have the text history to prove it. So I might have gotten a little pissed off and bribed Thor to sneak a phone in to Loki just so I could harass the fuck out of him."

"Sounds a little vindictive for you," Pepper assessed critically. "But also entirely plausible whenever you're confronted with a condescending superiority complex."

Tony smirked. "You know me so well."

"It's kind of my job. How does this lead to you getting sick?"

Tony sighed, rubbing the underside of his bearded and still impeccably kempt chin. "You remember that box of my college crap that Obi was hiding?"

"Yes," Pepper said slowly, afraid of what was coming.

"I… never told you much about those days. Never really told much of anyone, aside from Rhodey…"

"And I understood that," Pepper said, laying a hand over his. "Why would you? They were painful days."

"Not all of them," Tony whispered.

"Did you have someone," Pepper asked, with no ounce of judgment.

Tony nodded, grateful. "Yeah. And he was my first."

Predictably Pepper's eyes widened a bit at the pronoun usage, but she didn't close herself off. She didn't back away. She didn't say the cliché "Oh…" and put even more distance between him and herself. What she did do was smile—maybe with a little bit of pity—and grip his hand a little tighter. "That's young, but was it a good first?"

"For the semester we had, it was the best," Tony replied, additionally grateful for her acceptance.

Pepper frowned. "Did he leave after finals?"

His throat closed up. Much like with anything in Tony's life that was painful to think about or remember, there was always an unearthing. With Liam, however, despite the fact that he had died all those years ago it still felt so fresh and raw in light of Obi's newly discovered involvement. Tony remembered the lifelessness of the hallucinations too. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the potion that saved his life, but ever since that night thinking of Liam didn't cause as much heartache as before. It still made him a little sad, not because of the death, but because he felt robbed for the both of them.

Maybe he would have been happy with Liam.

He would never know.

And it wasn't fucking fair.

"Obi had him killed."

Pepper's mouth dropped open in shock and horror.

"The official report was sleep apnea," he forced himself to continue. "But the evidence is all there. And I feel like it's my fault."

"Tony, _how_ could it possibly be your fault? You were sixteen!"

"Because I _trusted_ Obi when my parents died," Tony seethed. "Then after I opened up and told him about Liam all he could fucking care about was how it would have affected the company—nevermind that I was still _I don't know_ grieving my mother much less my father and dealing with being a fucking orphan before I got my fucking driver's license! I kept him at a distance after that and he fucking punished me for it by killing the one person who gave me an ounce of stability! That is why it has to be my god damned fault because I made that mistake for the both of us!"

"Would Liam have agreed with you," Pepper asked, eyes glassy but determined.

Tony opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out at first. He sighed and closed his eyes. "…Pepper—"

"Obadiah was an evil selfish person," she ruthlessly interrupted. "If he could have gotten away with it he would have either had you locked away or disinherited and on the streets. And as crazy as that sounds, I can't tell you he _didn't_ consider either of those options."

"He knew he wouldn't have had any power without me."

"That's true. But that doesn't mean because he used you that you were complicit in whatever he did. When you realized what he was doing—what his aim was, Tony—you ended it. You ended him. Liam's blood is on no one's hands but Obi's. And Obi had a lot of blood to his name."

"If I'd known back then what he did… I would have _ruined him_ for it. And I would have enjoyed doing it. I would be a completely different person right now… I wouldn't be Iron Man, I wouldn't be—"

Pepper reached across and cupped the side of his face in an affectionate gesture neither of them had dared initiate since their breakup. "But you're not a different person," she said softly. "It may not be fair and it may hurt again for a while, but you're the best version of you because of everything that happened, the good and the bad. If there's any right that can be done, any justice left to be had, it's by living. And being stubborn about it like you always do."

Tony tried to tamp down on the smile that threatened to come out, squeezing Pepper's hand as a distraction instead. "I can't even eat my emotions in ice cream—this is how screwed up my life is right now."

"We'll get there," Pepper said with a sad but hopeful smile as she retracted her hand. "Go on. I know there's more."

"Figuring out what Obi did… sucked. That was the same night I got stupidly drunk and would've either died of alcohol poisoning or by falling fifteen hundred feet."

Tony could see the immediate and clearly NOT happy click in Pepper's memory. "And you disabled Jarvis because he never would have let you near the bar or out on the deck otherwise."

"I'm so sorry, Tony—"

Tony shook his head. "Don't apologize for doing your job. Nobody knew it was there. And if nobody found it, I'd never know the truth."

Pepper nodded, and wiped at one of her eyes. "How is this all supposed to come back to Thor or Loki?"

Tony pulled out his phone and scrolled to the last date of texts between them, which had been that night leading up to Loki's return to Earth. "The only reason why I'm still alive is _because_ of Loki," he said, handing Pepper the device to read.

Tony watched a myriad of emotions cross Pepper's face. Regret. Confusion. Contempt. Some more guilt. Consideration. Surprise (that was probably the embarrassing typos). Sadness. Worry. And then the shock. Pepper looked up in wonder, unable to form a response.

Tony just shrugged. "Guess saving someone from public execution means they're obligated to return the favor. I can have Jarvis pull the security footage if you want."

"He saved your life?"

"In more ways than one."

Pepper studied him for a few moments, suspicion slowing her words. "What else happened that night, Tony?"

"In a nutshell: Asgardian potion that evaporated the alcohol out of my system and made me mostly if not completely sober inside of an hour."

Pepper blinked, mouth falling open. "Oh my god—"

Tony flicked his eyes up toward the ceiling. "Andwekindofhadsex."

"I'm sorry, _what did you just say?_ "

"A lot of it, actually—"

"Did you just—?!"

"It was only one night if that helps though?—"

Pepper held up a hand to silence him. "You. Had sex. With Loki?"

"Yeah," he admitted with no shame.

"Oh god," Pepper moaned. "Tony, do you have an alien STD or something?"

"Wh—no," he immediately denied, but then he thought about it and wasn't ashamed to admit the possibility gave him a little bit of hope. "No?"

"Why do you sound happy about that," she exclaimed.

"Because that _wasn't_ the original theory, though it could be a possibility given… well not everything that's going on with me, but the _not_ being able to eat _maybe._ "

"I'm afraid to ask but what was the original theory?"

"That I somehow sort of might have a kind of kid in… here."

"Excuse me, did I just hear you say you and Bruce think you're _pregnant_?!"

"Pepper," he moaned. "I've been trying to poke holes in this for _days_. It makes sense as much as I would love for it **not to**. And believe me I would be over the fucking moon if this whole theory was fucking baseless because of exhaustion or some fucking dead brain cells because aside from the fact that being a parent is fucking terrifying I have never and will never be ready for that and _you know it._ Physically, it should also be fucking impossible for obvious reasons, but this is Loki who just so happens to be a fucking mage, which is basically what everything is hinging on because _we don't know_ and _I don't know_ jack shit when it comes to magic or what's even possible in the first place, because if it is something that's possible then I call fucking foul because I had no fucking idea and right now I'd rather be dying of fucking **cancer** than have a kid growing inside of me!"

Tony took a few calming breaths to not descend into another panic attack, because Bruce threatened to up his anxiety meds and force-feed him if he had to.

Pepper was silent as she digested all that had been said. She was silent for a really long time, and it killed Tony to let it last, but he knew he had to. He had to let her come to terms with it all. Eventually she blew out a long breath. "You should tell Rhodey."

Classic deflection. Not like he could blame her, but it still hurt a little bit. Tony sighed and tried not to curl into himself much. "What the hell am I supposed to tell him?"

"Exactly what you told me."

"Yeah, sure, big military guy's gonna take everything just as well as you did-much as I do hate to inflate your ego Peps, you're the exception to every rule there is."

That got a quirk of a smile out of her, which made him feel a smidgen less guilty. "He's worried about you," she reminded him.

"Yeah well _I'm_ kind of worried about me right now," Tony muttered.

" _One_ of us needs to not be worried about you," she said with no tears in her eyes, and a stronger voice. "And I guess that has to be me."

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. Your feelings matter. You don't have to put up with this too. You still mean so much to me. I didn't do this to hurt you.

"Do you want me and Bruce to tell him," she asked.

"No, I'll do it," he said, continuing quieter. "Are you mad at me?"

Pepper turned to him in confusion. "Why would I be? Because you moved on from our relationship? Tony, that's normal."

"You did too."

Pepper sighed. "Tony, I may have fallen out of love with you but I never stopped caring about you. It's really the only way I could still work for you after everything."

"You happy?"

"Yeah," she admitted calmly. "I am."

Tony genuinely smiled. "Then I'm good."

"And this doesn't change anything either. I don't care if Loki is a god. If he doesn't support this _possible_ kid and you I **will** have his head as a desk ornament."

If the admission of being happy didn't suck all of the tension and dread out of the room, that last statement definitely did. Tony laughed out loud because he full out believed her. And _fuck_ it felt good to laugh. Was it sad that he couldn't remember the last time he did? If it was, he didn't really care. "I don't know what I did to deserve you in any aspect."

"I don't either," she replied.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Come on, I was being nice and truthful for once."

"And just because I still take jabs at you doesn't mean I don't appreciate the honesty."

Tony pulled a face. "I mean I do kind of deserve it."

Pepper nodded. "You do."

"Ouch. Thanks, Pep."

"Joking aside, if this is true… if you and Bruce find proof… we'll take it step by step and figure things out. You won't be doing this alone."

Tony really didn't want to think about all the specifics so he just nodded and steered the conversation in a more general direction. "Keeping it from Shield will make things interesting."

"Well to make it easy, you're taking a leave of absence," Pepper said, getting up and crossing over to the fridge. "From Shield _and_ the company-"

Tony followed her. "That doesn't need to happen _now."_

Pepper turned on her heel and gave him a look. "What? Because you're not showing?"

Tony deflated and gave Pepper a mild glare.

Pepper ignored him and pulled out a carton of blueberries, blackberries, milk, and some yogurt. "Whether you are or not you're having adverse health issues and you're still on your way to looking like a skeleton. You need to take it easy until we figure out how to help you, which will hopefully be soon."

"What I _need_ is to go forty-eight hours without upchucking," he said eyeing the yogurt with apprehension.

"When was the last time you tried yogurt," she asked, as she tossed everything into the blender.

"High school?—"

Pepper held the lid down and blended the contents to a smooth consistency, the noise drowning out any further argument from Tony. He tried to mime something to her, but she just gave him that shit-eating patient smile that had him giving up and sulking on a stool at the kitchen bar. When it was done she poured the contents into a plastic tumbler and screwed the lid on and inserted the plastic straw. When she set it down in front of him he gave her a warning glance.

"I hope you're ready for the headaches involved with the current state of my stomach."

"Please," she said with a pitying expression. "If this really is a pregnancy I'll have you eating full meals in days. Drink it."

Tony pulled a face, but steeled himself and took a few sips. He didn't immediately want to vomit, but the true test would be how it settled in an hour or so.

"So far so good," Pepper asked.

"I'll let you know in an hour."

"Sounds like someone has a hot date with his bed and TV then."

Tony groaned as Pepper pushed him out of his seat and in the general direction of the master bedroom. "You don't understand. I've made it through all the new releases on Netflix, Hulu, HBO, Starz, _and_ Amazon Prime. I'm out."

"Dare I ask if you've resorted to reality TV yet?"

"That's a Pandora's box and you know it."

"That's true. The last thing I think any of us need you hooked on next is the caddiness of Real Housewives."

"Now, that's just not fair," Tony deadpanned, stopping in the middle of the hallway. "You know I have a weakness for caddy mean girls gossip. How many hours of my life am I going to waste?"

"If you start with the right series, several."

"Hmm. I'm sensing a closeted secret here, Ms. Potts…"

"Start with New York," she advised, pulling him along and continuing with a sneaky wink. "And then let me know when you get to New Jersey."

* * *

The next day, Colonel James Rhodes sat in a lab chair.

Colonel James Rhodes sat facing Tony Stark and Bruce Banner in his civilian clothes because it was a Sunday.

Colonel James Rhodes currently had his mouth gaping in shock.

Tony and Bruce both stared at him with similar expressions of worry.

"I think you broke him," Bruce whispered to Tony.

Tony snapped fingers in front of Rhodey's face, but the man was still in shock. "Come on, Rhodes," he said. "You gotta give me something…"

Rhodey remained unchanged, except for his eyebrows, which dropped in disbelieving scrutiny.

Tony huffed silently and raised an eyebrow of his own as he turned to Bruce.

"That's something," the scientist said with a guilty shrug and a wince.

Tony grabbed a tablet and made his way over to the lab couch to lie down under a blanket, popping wireless ear buds in. "I make no promises for a full reactionary conversation until after Ramona's meltdown."

This time, Bruce was the one rolling his eyes and muttering about the evils of reality TV and punishments from Pepper for keeping her in the dark for so long.

All in all it only took Rhodey about ten minutes to come up with something to say. "Has he been drinking again?"

"He tried to," Bruce admitted, turning around in his chair. "But no, he hasn't. And for what its worth I've got the numbers to prove it."

Rhodey looked over at Tony, but the genius was sound asleep and gently snoring on the couch, the Real Housewives of New York episode still playing on the tablet. The Colonel shook his head slowly and stood up, taking a few steps over to Bruce. He held a hand out as he said with a sigh, "Gimme the bottle."

Bruce pulled open a locked drawer next to his feet and handed the only bottle of scotch he'd been able as of yet to find over without a word.

"That the only one you've seen," Rhodey asked with a critical gaze.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah."

Rhodey gave a long-suffering sigh and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm gonna wake up tomorrow and I'm gonna give you a call. And you're either gonna tell me this is all some crazy ass made-up bullcrap, or God forbid the exact same shit you just told me."

"I could save you the minutes and just repeat myself now?"

"Eight AM sharp, doc," Rhodey said as he made his way over to the elevator.

Bruce studied the retreating man's form and gait. "You planning on drinking that?"

"Yep," Rhodey called without turning around.

"Oookay," he muttered, turning back to his computer after the elevator doors closed. After a few minutes, Bruce had an idea. He looked over to Tony who was still sound asleep and weighed his options. They still needed help with this. And since that day Pepper walked in on them, not much had changed except Bruce's knowledge of Scandinavian history. Pepper and Rhodey would be supportive advocates, but they wouldn't have any real answers.

The scientist sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose to fend off another headache. All the stress of the dead ends and confusing data was like a constant irritating hum to the big guy. He'd already hulked out once in the gym Tony had built for him in one of the sub basements. He really didn't want it to turn into a habit, because right now it was really tempting.

He'd have to risk the fallout. So Bruce picked up his phone and crafted a text. After he'd sent it off, it only took a few minutes for him to get a response back, and Bruce was admittedly impressed.

* * *

A few days later, Tony took up his usual position on the lab couch with his head propped up on a pillow and his arms crossed under a fleece blanket.

He was not sulking.

Rhodey gave one call to Bruce the morning after they told him what was going on, Bruce reiterated the truth, and Tony hadn't heard from him since.

He was definitely not sulking.

He'd made it through all available seasons of The Real Housewives that he could stomach, and had attempted one episode of The Bachelor but just ended up staring at the screen, completely uninvested.

Tony was _absolutely_ not sulking.

Pepper's reaction had been a walk in the park compared to Rhodey. No matter how outlandish, Pepper approached just about anything with a calmness and collectedness that helped her get to the heart of the problem and quickly understand what needed to be done. That was why she was his CEO. And still such a good friend that he still didn't deserve.

Rhodes… had a tendency to overreact, and go silent for a while. Ever since Tony had known the guy it never failed to make Tony feel like a dog with its tail between its legs by the time Rhodey came back around. The problem was, Tony could usually predict how bad Rhodey would freak out and how much time he would need. When you told somebody that you might somehow be impossibly pregnant with the child of the guy who was a recovering mind-controlled mass murderer after having a night full of amazing sex and not dying of alcohol poisoning… well… that kind of fell under its own category. And being in new territory with Rhodey was always stressful because Rhodey was basically family.

Was he worried Rhodey may never come around? No. …maybe. … _yes_.

Did he want to crawl into a hole and ignore everyone for a little while? Hell yeah, he fucking did—and still does! But aside from the fact that it would stress Bruce out too much, he'd already had enough loneliness to last a lifetime. It meant the world to Tony that Pepper had accepted him so quickly, and that Rhodey hadn't immediately rejected him. But if he was honest with himself, the gaping hole somewhere in his chest that hurt when he thought about it couldn't really be filled by Pepper, Rhodey, or even Bruce.

The person he really wanted to hear from flat out had no way of talking to him.

And it really fucking sucked.

When he had trouble sleeping at night he gave in to the urge to text the old number. The texts went to the cloud service and would stay there unanswered, of course, but it helped him deal at night, however marginally.

 _ **Stark:**_ _Kind of feel like I'm on a boat without oars here._

 _ **Stark:**_ _Kind of freaking out._

 _ **Stark:**_ _Could really use your help._

 _ **Stark:**_ _Still really freaking out._

 _ **Stark:**_ _Your dad is an asshole, I don't know how to handle any of this, and I need you…_

Even worse than his devolving grasp of independence, he'd also gotten into the frightening habit of touching his stomach after sending one of those texts. The first time he did it he freaked out so much that J.A.R.V.I.S. had to coach him down from a moderate panic attack—because the last thing Tony was going to do at three in the god damned morning was wake Bruce up after the lab hours he put in every day. The second time he did it he bit his lip until it bled and burrowed back into his blankets like a stubborn child. And the third time he did it, he pretended there had been an itch to scratch.

By now, discovering he was unconsciously doing it wasn't as big of a deal, but just now he'd done it while not alone in his bedroom. He had a blanket overtop him so it wasn't like Bruce could see him do it, but it still made him feel simultaneously guilty and annoyed. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly masochistic, he even asked himself if it would really be so bad being a parent. Predictably, his thoughts would eventually turn to Howard and he would slam that door in his mind without mercy. He couldn't deny his desire to have a legacy before he died, to impart all the good things he carried with him, and prove his father wrong by doing everything Howard had never done with him.

But that didn't make the selfish desire any less terrifying either.

Because the margin for error was so great.

"All Asgardians turn into icicles when they're pregnant," Tony groused, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"I doubt it," Bruce answered, busy flipping through tabs of Wikipedia articles and more official academic articles. "I think this is strictly part of Loki's heritage. He's not truly Asgardian, you know."

"Adopted," Tony parroted with an eye roll. "I know, but from where?"

"Jotunheim, according to Scandinavian myth."

"What is Jotunheim? Land of the fucking snowmen?"

"Frost giants, actually."

Tony froze, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. " _What._ "

"It's actually kind of interesting, physiologically speaking—"

Tony sat up and fixed Bruce with an incredulous and slightly murderous glare. "I'm sorry, _am I growing a giant frost baby?!_ "

And then the biggest loudest clunk echoed and bounced off the walls of the lab, startling both Tony and Bruce.

To their collective horror, Thor stood slack jawed and with Mj…Mil… his hammer imbedded into the cracked floor by the entrance to the lab.

No one moved for probably more than a minute, the shocked silence absolutely deafening.

Tony took a deep breath and blew it out before speaking slowly. "Jarvis, schedule time for me to update your fucking security system."

"When would you like that scheduled for, sir?"

"Immediately after this conversation I'm dreading, please."

"I will notify you of your addition to the schedule after Thor Odinson's departure."

More silence.

"Hey there, Thor…" Bruce tested with a weak wave.

"I must have misheard," the god began uncertainly. "… when I entered unannounced."

"Youuuuu didn't," Tony replied with a wince. "And I, uhhm, might have lied to you when I said I got over that bout with the flu a while ago…which we think now wasn't really the flu…"

"Explain quickly," Thor said, eyes sharp and voice low and maybe a little angry as he took a few steps into the room? "I care not who does."

By the time Bruce and Tony laid everything out on the table, the air in the lab was quite literally **electric** and Thor was tense as a bowstring. It had gotten so bad that Tony pushed Bruce to have some gym time after noticing the scientist turning a bit green. At first Bruce refused, not wanting to leave Tony alone with the angry god, but it only took a gentle nudge toward the elevator and a promise to keep the feed live downstairs for Bruce to give in.

When Tony tuned back around after Bruce left, Thor was pacing the length of the lab, grip tight on his hammer and expression downright stormy. "This should not have happened," the god seethed. "It is not physically possible!"

"A for effort," Tony allowed. "But trust me when I say we're way past what's physically possible and what's not at this point—"

"Loki will pay for his indiscretions, this I promise you, Stark!"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, time out! Time. Out. Take a chill pill, Point-Break."

"I do not want a chill pill," Thor growled in Tony's face.

Tony held both hands up. "Earth expression. Older one I'll admit, but still relevant: and it means calm the fuck down. Add it to your earth jargon dictionary because I know you keep one, okay?"

Thor shook his head and turned away to continue his previous and furious pacing.

"And FYI: indiscretion," Tony continued. "Implies a lack of good judgment and if we're basing all of this off that then technically I started it, I'm the actual indiscreet party here, and your brother was just the accomplice."

"Why do you defend his actions?! He is the cause of your illness!"

"Please don't go all BS chivalric on me because the last thing I want to do right now is teach you how misogynistic chivalry actually is—and if I fucking need to I will woke you so hard you won't be able to sleep for weeks."

"How can you stand there and seek no reparations for what was done to you?"

"Jesus H. Christ," Tony groaned into his hands. "How many times do I have to say I said yes? **I said yes!** I said fucking yes- _to everything_ -which is as embarrassing as _fuck_ for me, but you, thunder-thighs, just so happen to have the thickest skull in the universe about what consent actually means!"

"I worry, man of iron, that you may be wrong. You do not know Loki as I do."

"So are you telling me your brother is a rapist?"

Thor stepped forward, threateningly, and raised his voice. "Not in any of the nine realms would he ever-!"

"Then if consent is _not_ the issue here, then what is? What's your deal?"

"Loki is never without his schemes. What I contest is not his conscience, but his honesty."

"What, you think he _tried_ to get me pregnant?"— _Did that phrase literally just fly out of his mouth?_

"I know not whether the act was purposeful," Thor replied, finally deflating a bit. "Nor his true intent, if any, but I know Loki. And in this, he would never knowingly take that risk, even if the possibility was as small as a grain of sand."

Looking past the fact that Thor practically spat poetry at Tony, that response reeked of some past history that neither Tony nor Bruce knew about. Yet. "This could be an accident and it probably is. Regardless of that, why would he never take that risk" the genius asked with suspicion.

"It has never ended well for him. Or the child."

Tony stared at the god in shock, jaw loose, but barely able to consciously take in a breath. _THAT_ he did not expect. "What the hell does that mean," he asked quietly, and with no small amount of anger or dread.

Thor sighed and looked away in guilt. "It is not my story to tell."

If Thor wasn't willing to spill the beans, that meant it was _bad_. And it also meant Tony needed answers _now_. "Then I guess we need Loki," Tony challenged. "Because if there's a story that explains or confirms any of this, then I need it. And after being sick for close to two months I think at this point I kind of fucking deserve that if nothing else."

"Loki is confined in the cell of endless night," the god argued. "It is one of the most heavily guarded cells in Asgard's dungeons."

"Don't give me that 'this is my first jailbreak bullshit,'" Tony said with a shake of his head, calling Thor's bluff. "You know where he is, you know the circumstances, so you know how to work around them. Just think realistically how long it's going to take to get him out and get it done in half that time. The kid gloves are officially off, and if I need to get in a suit to kick some Asgardian ass to get shit done then you best believe I'll do it sick or pregnant or neither."

In the end, Thor heaved an almighty sigh, or grunt, and backed down, entreating Tony to let him handle the operation with friends of his own. It certainly didn't instill a lot of confidence in Thor's capabilities, but Tony was too tired from the whole ordeal to even bother arguing another gameplan. As long as Thor wasn't going to bull his way into a china closet alone Tony could live with that for now, because if he was honest, the thought of getting in a suit and kicking ass himself was embarrassingly daunting at the moment. He escorted Thor back to the landing pad himself, but the god had barely looked at him since they broke the news to him, and that didn't change before he was gone in a deafening boom of thunder and light.

Well, their friendship was tolerable while it lasted.

Tony doubted they would be on speaking terms anytime soon. The way the god of thunder last looked at him was every bit as predictable and dreadful as Tony had imagined. It was a look full of disbelief, confusion, and disgust. The anger and frustration he knew was directed at Loki, but it still didn't sit well with Tony. It dwarfed Pepper's acceptance and Rhodey's continued silence by comparison, leaving Tony feeling a bit small.

Historically, Tony never reacted well when he was made to feel as such.

So rather than go on an angry inventing spree or worse yet a drinking binge, he did the next best thing which was get as close to bodily harm as humanly possible. He took the elevator down to the gym, in one of the sub basements, and stepped out into the reinforced glass foyer to survey the damage. He'd built the chamber specifically so it could contain the Hulk and afford him the need to smash things, but ultimately not hurt him. The sheer amount of debris the big guy had created was impressive, and had Tony rethinking some features.

"Hey big guy," Tony greeted, sitting down on the bench placed in front of the glass wall.

The Hulk growled, but plopped down on his ass, panting and sweating from the exertion.

Wordlessly, Tony laid a hand on the reinforced glass that separated them.

The Hulk stared at it, then back at Tony with suspicion.

"You good?"

The Hulk harrumphed and turned away from him. "Banner fine."

"Good to know. But I wasn't asking about him."

The Hulk turned his head to give Tony some serious side eye.

"Point-Break can be a little…obtuse about a lot of things—"

"Make Hulk want SMASH!"

"Yeah, and I've probably added to that for the past few months," Tony admitted. "Just wanted to say that I'm sorry about all of this."

"Hulk no blame Tiny Tony," he grunted. "Blame stupid god."

Tony smiled, but bit his lips together to not burst out laughing. "You like the room?"

The Hulk was silent for a while, still breathing loudly. "Want more smash things," he said eventually.

"That I can do, big guy," he promised.

Hulk said nothing, but clenched one hand into a fist and knocked the glass where Tony's hand was. Tony stared in disbelief.

 _Did he just fist bump me?_

… _cool._

The communal moment was interrupted a short time later by a buzz in Tony's pocket. He pulled his phone out and stared at it, because of course his day would fucking get even worse than it already had.

 _ **Fire and Fury:**_ _I don't suppose you're aware of one of the most common idioms of the world, 'When pigs fly.' Personally, I'm more a fan of 'When bullshit stinks.' What exactly are you and Banner hiding?_

* * *

 **A/N: And this update kicked my ass too. On top of getting distracted with a sequel to the Irondad Spiderson one off (new one is The Driving Thing) I've started thinking about my PhD options (right now there's only one fit and it's an ivy league FML), I started two new jobs and am back to freelancing after being unemployed for two months, the wedding planning/headaches continue, and our only car needed 4 new tires after a blow out and a serious brake job. Also, don't get the flu. Adulting is hard y'all. .**

 **If you want, you can all blame Thor for trying and failing to be a chapter hog. And I think I may have promised more Loki in this chapter, but since I wasn't able to do it here it will just make the next one all the better ;) I will try my absolute best to get another update in before Christmas. A lot of it is written already since yet again I had too much material for this new chapter. Enjoy the update tho and leave me some feedback! I could use some kind words this week.**


	9. Weathered in mirror's memory

**A/N: And here's a big ol' Loki/Tony wrapped present for you all (and NO, not that kind of present :-p). It's probably worth mentioning now that here is where the complicated frostiron comes in. They're gonna go through a shit ton of ups and downs, but just keep in mind there will be a** _ **lengthy**_ **happy ending somewhere way down the road. You hereby have my unwavering promise on that.**

 **Thanks so much for your continued support of this story with your feedback and comments. This beleaguered writer (and now non-credit local college TEACHER-this literally just happened) truly appreciates it. Happy Holidays, kids!**

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE – Weathered in mirror's memory**

Dreamless sleep was always a hard won achievement.

Loki could count on one hand the number of times he managed to sleep without dreams or nightmares. He could also count on one hand the number of unfortunate and unintelligent beings who dared to disturb said sleep when he happened to be basking in such luxury. Thor happened to be one of those rare few who lived to merely think about telling the tale. The rest need no further explanation.

Presently in his unjust incarceration, and primarily due to his endless dreams of copious blood and piercing screams, had Loki not had his magic restrained his poor brother would have had a knife to the eyeball faster than he could blink this time. As it was, with his shaking wrist caught in one of Thor's powerful hands, he still could hurt the bastard if he wanted to, but in all his time confined in this dark cell, something different was welcome. Even if it was Thor.

Loki huffed a few chuckles and plastered on the smirk he knew irked his brother to no end. "You look downright furious, brother. I'm intrigued by this unnecessary visit already."

"You know why I've come," the god of thunder accused, voice low in severity.

"Don't tell me," Loki said, drinking in what he could make out of the god's expression and body language. "You've missed my handsome face? Hath Asgard frozen over yet? Or better still, has _father-dearest_ finally come to recognize the weakness of his own m—?"

To no one's surprise, Thor had his hand wrapped around Loki's throat before he could finish (the trickster god would admit he had flat out asked for it). The grip was tight in warning, but not hard enough to be overtly hurtful. "Do not speak of _that_. I am here for actions _you_ have caused on _your own_. And I mean to seem them rectified."

Loki glared at Thor in the darkness, but said nothing.

Eventually, Thor released him and took a few steps away to put distance between them.

 _Like father like son._ In this, Thor would always be a disappointment to Loki. "My actions," Loki asked, rubbing his throat. "Odin's already seen to my punishment."

"I do not speak of father," Thor snapped. "Though I would have you see your punishment through for what you've wrought. I speak instead of Stark."

Concern replaced the urge to fight before Loki could mask it. "Stark? What about him? Isn't he _your friend_?—"

"Loki," Thor interrupted. "I know."

Loki leaned back against the sharp wall and proceeded with caution. "Know. What is it you think you know, brother?"

"I know you have a heart, and that you shared it with him before father imprisoned you here. I know you risked your freedom for his sake."

"Such a romantic fairytale you paint."

"Admit it or not, it will not change the fact that Stark is ill. Banner is at a loss for how to help him… and they need you."

"When you say ill, what is it you mean exactly?"

Thor shuffled his feet. "I know not for sure-"

"Still an abysmal liar. I doubt you'll fare better with a second attempt unless you actually _try_. Or better yet, stop pretending you can spin anything but the truth."

"Banner has a theory," Thor admitted with some bite. "He believes… however impossible… that Stark may have your child inside of him."

If it were possible, a colder more vast and dark pit of fear opened itself up in his stomach. His hearing muffled. But every nerve ending in his body was alight. Loki was speechless. And Loki's silence seemed to temper Thor's anger.

"Will you come with me to Midgard," Thor asked.

Loki said nothing for a long time, but before Thor could break the silence he thrust his chains toward Thor to be broken. Thor wordlessly made quick work of them with the keys. Thor headed toward the door and peered out to the hallway beyond. At the foot of the stairs Sif made eye contact and beckoned him to hurry. But then there was a cold hand on his arm, gripping it like a vice.

Loki leaned in to hiss a threat into Thor's ear. "If this is your poor attempt at a joke, I will disembowel you and leave you laid open for the vultures."

"Then it is good that we risk father's fury for your sake," Thor whispered back with a glare. "Because I do not and would not jest about this. Not to you."

The light beyond the cells where Loki had been kept was bright enough to hurt, but not bright enough to force his eyes completely closed. Though it irked him, he stayed close to Thor as they continued onward and upward past guards and other prisoners. Most of the guards were suspiciously absent. If Loki had a little more faith in Thor he wouldn't have given a single thought to it, but instead all he had to do was listen.

"Where are the guards," Thor asked.

"They're not here," Sif returned with a tense and worrying look. "I know not why."

"Where are the others?"

"Hogun is behind us. Volstagg and Fandral should be up ahead. I would say their subterfuge has improved but I would not want to be disingenuous," the female warrior said with a smirk, and an overly obvious tone of flirting.

And predictably, Thor smiled back at her.

Loki rolled his sore eyes and ignored the budding headache sprang forth.

They stopped only twice, and still met no obstacles. Loki was beyond suspicion and worry, though the two dunderheads in front of him simply took it as good fortune and success of their little mission. It was on the tip of Loki's tongue to rain on their parade, but as soon as they rounded a corner of a back hallway that exited to the gardens he got an answer he wasn't expecting: a single hooded figure that turned to face them as they approached.

Frigga stood there, offering him a sad smile with tears that hadn't fallen from her eyes yet. She held a single hand out to him and Loki went to her to wrap his arms about her. In his ear she gave a quiet but happy sigh. Before Loki could sink into the warm comfort she asked for Fandral and Volstagg. They appeared, dragging a sleeping guard between them. Then, before Loki could stop her, Frigga grasped the collar about Loki's throat (that he'd successfully forgotten about in that darkness) and broke it open.

The shock was enough to weaken Loki's knees and nearly send him crashing to the floor. But Thor stepped forward to prevent that. In his humiliation, Loki managed not to gasp when his magic came back to him with the brute force of a hurricane, but he did groan as the pain continued to make a permanent place behind his tightly closed eyeballs. To his credit, Thor held Loki upright through it all with silence and no commentary. But that certainly didn't mean Loki would thank him for it.

Through the fully blossomed and full-bodied migraine, Loki cracked his eyes open and watched as Frigga snapped her fingers in front of the sleeping guard. Instantly the guard took on the visage of Loki himself, even in the same prison clothes as he was currently in. She smirked and closed the collar about the guard's neck to seal the trick. Then she instructed Fandral and Volstagg to take the guard back to Loki's cell.

Loki smiled and would have chuckled, even offered their mother a compliment or two for the details of her trickery, but the return of his magic was still smarting. It wasn't long before Frigga's soft and gentle hands found his face again. They didn't make the entirety of the agony recede, but they took more than the edge off, for which Loki was grateful. When he could fully open his eyes and look upon her again, she bore more than a fair bit of regret.

"Forgive me, little one," she whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive, mother," he replied, pushing Thor off of him and forcing himself to stand on his own.

"Take him to Midgard," she said softly to Thor. "Watch over him and protect him from there. I will do what I can here. If you need to hide, if you need to run, then do so. I will find you after."

"I will protect him, mother," Thor replied.

Loki regarded Thor with a small amount of surprise for the genuine nature to his tone.

"And you, my son," Frigga said turning back to Loki with a pointed look. "Before this is over, you and I surely _will talk_."

Loki masked his shock well at all Frigga implied but did not say, and also tried not to look as cowed as he felt. "Yes, mother."

She laid a kiss upon them both before she took her leave with Sif and Hogun.

Only when Loki was alone with Thor as they made their way to the bifrost did he grab the god by the arm and confront him properly. "What did you tell her," Loki hissed to Thor.

"What is it you think she does not already know," Thor asked back.

"I know not what she does but I also know not how she came by it, because it was certainly not from Odin's wagging tongue. That threat was made clear to me time and time again over the past several centuries."

"If you are accusing me of breaking my promise to you, then you are wrong. And you offensively underestimate our mother where you are concerned."

Loki gave his brother a suspicious assessing glance. "I know not whether I like these changes in you, brother. You start to sound somewhat intelligent."

Thor had the audacity to smirk at him. "Does it unsettle you so, little brother?"

"Need I remind your fowled brain that my magic is again unchained? My fingers are practically itching for a blade if not a switch."

"You dare not risk it while father is only in the first stages of the Odinsleep."

Ah, that answered that glaring bit of absent information. And it made him feel a bit better about their mother's involvement in that her risk was small. "Then perhaps it would make me _feel better_ —"

Thor raised one of his hands in silence and pushed Loki behind a corner with the other. Courtesans passed by, their colorful dresses swishing in the evening breeze. A couple of guards trailed after them at a respectful distance, their conversation on other matters, but their eyes fixed firmly on the women. When they finally passed well enough away, Thor answered Loki's jibe. "Then risk it and ruin all we do for your sake or instead do us all a favor and _shut up!_ "

They continued on in silence, all the way to the bifrost and the gate. As they went Loki marveled at their mother's forethought, and subsequently had to control his turbulent fear. If Frigga knew everything, if she knew about… his children, then she surely knew about this supposed child (however unlikely the possibility—which in Stark's case was less than the size of a single molecule)—the beginnings of panic started to erupt underneath his skin.

Loki couldn't afford to give it thought.

And neither could his children.

"My princes," Heimdall droned with long-suffered side-eye as he turned around to greet them. "I begin to see a pattern of behavior when the Allfather sleeps."

"One I did not start," Thor groused.

Heimdall grunted, and proceeded to open the gateway. "You are preceded by your Queen. Take care on your journey."

Thor and Loki stepped through, and Loki pointedly ignored the rare eye-roll and sigh from the gatekeeper.

On Midgard a damp night was giving way to what promised to be a warm dawn. Likely to avoid detection from both Midgard and a traceable path from Asgard, Thor and Loki were dropped in the back alley of tall and indistinct buildings of Manhattan. From the smell in the air, Loki guessed they were somewhere near the river. It would mean they would have to walk, but from where they were, he couldn't tell how long a journey it would be. Either way, physical activity was best for regaining magical equilibrium, so the trickster god wouldn't complain… much.

But then Thor was giving him a look.

"What," Loki snapped.

"We will have to travel to Stark's tower…"

Obviously. "There's the brother I grew up with," Loki said with a teasing smile.

Thor narrowed his eyes, knowing Loki just insulted his intelligence, but leaving it alone for present.

It was then that Loki realized he was only in his prison clothes and still barefoot. He thought to find some poor unsuspecting mortal to steal from—because there was no chance in Helheim that he was using his magic so soon after its snap return—but Thor's sudden look of surprise to Loki's immediate right took that thought right out of his head. He followed the direction of his brother's discovery and regarded it with the barest hint of suspicion before dressing in the clothes and shoes that were just his size and style (black and form-fitting). He supposed it should have been strange, but Frigga would have thought of everything if Loki's release was entirely of her planning, so Loki didn't question it. There were even Midgardian clothes in Thor's size.

Soon enough, the two brothers were walking the streets toward Stark's tower. The streets were a little busy, but relatively quiet considering the population and the lack of sunrise just yet. Beside him Thor walked with purpose, duffel bag strapped across his shoulder and back, filled to the brim with their previous clothes and his armor. He passed for a Midgardian rather well, considering the hair, which he decided to pull fully back. Loki had done the same out of practicality only.

Where Thor likely felt at home in such humble clothing Loki felt uncomfortable because there was no chance for bathing before the change. The black denim trousers were shapely and fit to the contours of his legs well enough. And the black collared shirt and simple belt made him look less of a pauper than he felt. But at the very least he looked a bit sharper than Thor in his blue denim. As they walked, Loki unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up. It was the peak of Midgard's summer from what it felt like. The stink of the city was a dead giveaway. Though he felt a bit naked without a cloak or coat of some kind, it would have ill-suited him in this current season.

"Speak plainly, brother," Thor entreated as they crossed a street. "Did you save Stark only to condemn him to a crueler fate?"

Loki shot a glare at Thor. "You wound me to think me capable of that. But you are an Odinson. I cannot claim offense at your flawed conclusion which has no basis."

Thor turned to him, stopping in the middle of the deserted sidewalk. "Then how did this happen?!—"

Loki simply stepped toward Thor, bringing them nose to nose. "You believe so easily for something that's physically impossible. Enlighten me, brother. When I prove you all to be so colossally and idiotically wrong am I to return to my cell and serve the rest of my unjust punishment for saving his life?"

Thor sighed and shook his head as he turned around and continued on.

Loki followed with distaste and gave in to the urge to jab. " _Enquiring minds_ —"

"Shut up, Loki," Thor snapped at him.

Loki caught up with a few long strides and said nothing else for the rest of the walk to Stark's tower. Once they reached its base, Loki noted Thor's momentary confusion and hesitation by the front door despite walking right in. Loki was about to stop him, but the chance for another joke was just too rich to pass up. And Thor had him riled up enough as it was, so Loki was more than willing to play.

"Don't tell me," Loki said loud enough for only Thor to hear. "You forgot to plan for how to get past…"

The trickster god stopped and regarded the front desk clerk who was asleep in her chair.

He also noted the two guards sleeping on the floor beside her.

Loki turned around and surveyed the rest of the lobby, noting with surprise that there were at least six other guards who were also asleep in various positions.

Odd.

It was perhaps a bit overkill for their mother… but what other explanation was there?

Thor was in a similar state of confusion, but eventually met Loki's eyes and shrugged before continuing toward the elevator. Loki followed despite his unease. Once the doors closed the elevator began to rise without further direction. It was a short ride, and soon the elevator stopped and opened its doors to a long hallway. Straight ahead, but far away were stone stairs leading upward. And to their immediate right was a wall of glass. Inside was a laboratory equipped with tables, materials, and technology. But none of this interested Loki. What did interest him were the two occupants grousing at each other at the far end, bent over something intently.

Loki hadn't seen or spoken to Stark since that night.

He had kept the memory of that night locked away, so his own inner demons couldn't make use of it against him.

It made seeing the mortal all the more shocking, but even more so than that was Stark's appearance.

The mortal was obviously sick, for he was pale, thinner, and had dark bags underneath his eyes. He was dressed as if it were the dead of winter, multiple layers, a sweatshirt, and fleece sleepwear, even multiple socks from the looks of it. But what made Loki freeze upon entering via the doorway was the appearance of Stark's bare hands. They were an angry red, puffy, and in some spots (the tips of the fingers especially) splotchy and dark purple.

"I didn't want to wake you up," Stark said in a painful voice, from behind gritted teeth and tightly closed eyes.

Banner had Stark's hands in his own, examining them as gently as he could. "I don't care if it's the middle of the night, Tony! You have to tell me when it gets this bad—this is serious. You could—"

"I am NOT losing my fucking hands to whatever this is, Bruce!"

Banner heaved a sigh and stepped back. "Tony, it's—"

"Frostbite," Loki interrupted.

Banner and Stark's heads snapped over to the direction of Thor and Loki. No one said a word or moved for some minutes. During that time Loki watched the shock thaw from Stark's face as he stared. Loki certainly didn't mind that he stared, for the god himself did the very same, but what Loki saw he liked less and less the more he did. The god took a step toward Stark and Banner. Thor shot a look at Loki, which Loki returned with the same fire and challenge before continuing toward both Avengers. He stopped about a foot away from where they stood at one of the examination tables.

"Hey," Stark said, unsure and barely loud enough to be heard.

"Sit down and give me your hands," Loki said to Tony, with his hands out in expectation.

Tony gave his hands over silently.

Loki would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't so concerned with the degree of degradation in the mortal's hands. Instead he merely raised an eyebrow and addressed the thankfully not green man behind them. "Dr. Banner, a chair if you would?"

"I don't need a chair—" Tony protested.

Once Loki opened a small channel of his core to siphon just enough to heal the affliction it was as if he'd cracked open a dam. Healing magic was sucked through his fingers into Stark's body with the volume of a newly severed main artery of blood. He heard them both gasp simultaneously, but was more preoccupied with closing himself off before more could escape. The pain of his prior migraine returned with full force and made the god's entire body throb in time with his erratic heart.

" _OW_ , _motherfucker_ ," Tony cursed somewhere beneath him.

Then Thor's strong arms were about him again, this time not so comforting and supportive (though Loki would never admit he could have used a bit of it to steady himself)."Loki," Thor boomed. "What did you do?!"

" _That_ will be the blood returning to your hands, Stark," Loki panted. "It may take a while, but the cold should trouble you no further."

Without much ceremony, Loki shoved Thor off of him again, this time with a threatening glare that promised bodily injury the next time.

"Ok. Great," Tony said breathlessly, Banner supporting him from his position on the floor behind his back. Stark held his hands out and watched as the healthy color quickly returned and he could clench them into fists without much trouble.

"But what did you do," Bruce asked, studying the healing effects.

"I offered him a small seedling of my magic," Loki said, kneeling down in front of Tony. "I will confess I did not expect it to take so quickly."

There was only one way in which his magic could have leapt forth from his fingers in such a way… and though he ached to not believe because of the fear, he forced himself to confront it by reaching out.

Stark froze and stared at him.

"Let me," the god asked in half command, gesturing with his eyes toward the mortal's stomach.

Eventually, Stark relented by removing his arms that had subconsciously wrapped around his stomach.

Steeling himself and ensuring his magical core was indeed firmly closed off, he reached out with the fingers of his left hand to touch the part of Stark's chest right above his heart, next to the arc reactor. Before his eyes, the mortal's life energy became visible, as did the struggles of his body, which of fucking course led downward to the source…

With his other hand, Loki set his jaw, ignored the sweat beading upon his brow from the exertion, and reached out to splay his hand over Stark's stomach.

And to his horror, Loki finally got his answer.

 _Cages—endless tears—chains—cries that haunted the worst of his nightmares—_

" _Fuck_ ," the god hissed, yanking his hand away.

Loki stood up, backing away and running a hand through his hair to grip and pull and do something to distract him from the awful reality that he'd caused. Again— _Not again—not again—not again!_

Wordlessly and without shame, he stormed out of the room.

* * *

"Brother," Thor called, going after him.

Tony felt like a sledgehammer had just settled into his gut.

"I guess that proves our theory," Bruce said quietly behind him.

"Fuck," Tony echoed, softly.

 _He was actually pregnant._

 _There was actually a kid inside him._

 _Growing inside of him._

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

 _He was going to be a father. Father? Yes, God damn it, a father._

 _Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh actual fuck._

He didn't dare think on all the hows that were yet to come. In fact, just pushing it off for later to think about started the small threads of terror that would eventually weave their way into his determination not to fucking die because his body wasn't fucking built for childbirth or you know fucking responsible parenting or any of that—

"Hey," Bruce said, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. "It'll be fine, Tony. Just take a minute and breathe for me, okay? Feel me breathing? Match that for me. Come on…"

Tony hadn't even realized he was descending into a panic attack until he tried to claw his way out of it. He was shaking in Bruce's arms as he sucked in the much-needed air. But bless the guy, Bruce just held onto him and rubbed a hand up and down his right shoulder until he got control of himself again.

Of all the ways Tony thought this day was going to go, this certainly wasn't one of them. First the frostbite had started after midnight that he refused to wake Bruce up over and instead just threw on a pair of ski gloves from that one fundraiser he'd done ages ago in Canada. Second, he'd woken up from the hunger pains and after satisfying said turbulent stomach he was back to throwing up the foods that had been safe to eat for weeks. Third, it turned out ignoring the cold hands problem was a bad and painful idea even for a few hours so he just HAD to wake Bruce up after all. And fourth, Thor surprised them all and brought Loki to the tower sooner than anyone expected.

It literally took the god of thunder less than forty-eight hours and Tony did not have time for that particular WTF at the moment.

The shock from seeing Loki again still hadn't worn off.

It wasn't as if the god was in all of his glory either. In fact he looked paler than usual. Dirty. The dark bags under his eyes pretty prominently stood out. His hair was noticeably longer. And seeing him in normal clothes just made him look all the more unhinged. Not that Tony could blame him, but he didn't dare pity the god either. He was just angry for him. Hell, he was angry for the both of them. In the end it was that anger that got Tony up on his feet. He could hear the raised voices from the lab, though none of the words. And he didn't really care what they were arguing about because if anyone was going to argue about anything (and he hoped they didn't) then it was going to be Loki and himself.

When he entered the room, Loki caught sight of Tony first and immediately turned away, crossing his arms and pointing himself towards the window. Thor released a loud growl of frustration and opened his mouth to lay into the trickster god yet again, but Tony stepped in. "Hey, Point-Break," Tony called, walking over and throwing his thumb over his shoulder. "Bruce could use some help in the lab."

"Tony," Thor began, hesitation in his warning.

But Tony didn't let him get any farther than that. "Now. Please."

Thor clearly wasn't happy about it, but he conceded and left, storming out much like his brother did a few minutes ago. These two were really so similar sometimes that it was comical. Though if Tony said anything remotely close to it at the moment he didn't doubt he'd get stabbed.

Loki was like an immoveable wall, rigid and radiating anger.

Tony gave the god the physical space he seemed to need, but neither did the genius really plan on communicating via telepathy. "Do you want that drink," Tony asked quietly.

Loki was silent.

"Well. I'm pouring one. Not like I can have it anyway. Someone's going to have to drink it."

There was only one bottle of whiskey left in the entire tower. It had been a commemoratory gift from some conference in Sweden that had been nothing more than a glorified bookend for the past several years. In fact, it legitimately looked like a metal bookend instead of a normal glass of whiskey, which was why he'd completely forgotten about it when he and Rhodey cleared out the bar. He poured a single glass of it and crossed back over to the god. He put the drink down on the end table between them and leaned back against the window with his arms crossed.

As he thought, the glass went untouched.

"So," Tony started. "What do you want to do about this?"

"Turn back time."

Tony managed not to wince too badly, but couldn't deny how much that hurt. Essentially, Loki had agreed with half of how Tony had felt over the past couple of months, but he supposed he hadn't expected the god to be so blunt about it. "Well," Tony continued. "I haven't exactly been looking forward to this either. So… I'll just take care of it and neither of us has to actually deal with it much less talk about it or-"

Loki turned to him with a simmering fury in his eyes. "You vapid moron, it is not that simple. This child is imprinted on your soul. You and it are one as long as it grows within your mortal body. To kill it would be to kill yourself. You and it are irreparably entangled. A knot that cannot be undone until birth."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "For the record, I'm not one for partial birth abortions."

"Neither am I," Loki said with a hard glare.

Tony turned away and clenched his jaw in anger. "You know I'm actually trying to be the better person here and not say all the angry things I really kind of deserve to say to you-"

"Cat got your tongue? That's a first for you."

Tony rounded on him like a repulser blast. "You barely know me you ancient fuck! Okay? I didn't get myself knocked up on my own with your kid, so don't stand there and look at me like this is all **my** fault. I didn't ask for this!"

"Neither did I! In fact, it should have been impossible!"

"By all means, _god of chaos_ ," Tony sassed, with a good dose of heat. "Blame impossibility on the god-damned mortal."

To both their mutual surprise, the glass of whiskey on the side table exploded, particles of glass bursting out sideways and whiskey draining down across the table and floor.

"Jesus," Tony gasped. He stared at it for a second in shock before starting to bend down to clean it up.

"Stop," Loki commanded angrily. Then he snapped his fingers at the mess, which remained exactly where it was. The god groaned in frustration and turned his back, calling over his shoulder. "Stay there!"

Tony stayed where he was and checked himself over briefly for shards, but found none. Loki returned shortly with a towel and cleaned it up by hand, body and movements tense and jerking in anger.

"I can—"

Loki glared at him.

Tony sighed as he cursed and sank down into a nearby chair. He put his face into his hands for a few moments and just breathed as the god finished up. "I'm sorry," he said, without looking at Loki.

From what he could tell, Loki didn't look at him either, and Tony was annoyed that it appeared as if Loki was going to continue his silence, but the god surprised him by voicing his own apology. "My apologies for the mess," the god said with a distasteful sneer. "My magic is normally not so… unpredictable."

"Isn't that your middle name?" Tony could tell Loki really wanted to roll his eyes at him, but didn't. "Does anybody else know about this besides Thor?"

"My mother," Loki replied. "Probably."

"Probably fair to say then that your dad doesn't?"

Loki turned to level him with a condescending glare. "If Odin knew about this child he'd have killed you already. Rest assured of that comforting fact, Stark."

"And then Fury on behalf of Earth would wage war all over his ass. I may not be the biggest political martyr he could possibly choose, but that would be a supremely idiotic-"

"And logical action of a senile ruler, who illogically feels his realm threatened, to do."

Senile? _Waaaaaait—_ "…you're kidding me right?"

"I jest of many things, but Odin's weak mind is not one of them."

Well that answered a few raging questions. But: "Thor's never mentioned this before."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Please tell me I did not bed a complete imbecile. Why in the nine realms would Thor speak of his father in such a manner, much less admit the existence of such flaws? To do so would be to risk unrest in Asgard and paint Thor as a deposing incumbent whether by his own volition or not."

Tony sighed. "Fair, but that's besides the real point. What the fuck do I have to do with this whole thing aside from being the victim here? What does Odin off all the girls you get knocked up?"

Stony murderous silence followed. When Loki eventually turned from him to leave the room without another word, Tony realized caught up with what he had so flippantly said, and realized there may have been some horrible truth to it. But there couldn't be could there?

"Hey! Hold up, I didn't mean-"

"You understand _nothing_ ," Loki growled over his shoulder.

"Then help me understand," Tony demanded, following as close as he could. "I think I deserve that much!"

Within the blink of an eye Loki had Tony pinned against the wall. "You would know it all, would you? All the pain and suffering and doom I've wrought since I dared think I deserved another to love and cherish for the duration of my wretched existence? My first wife died trying to spare me the punishment Odin imposed after discovering the birth of my twin sons. He caged them both, starved them to the point of near death, and made them fight one another for survival. One is dead. I know not which. To see at least one alive and well would be to impose his own death sentence. My second wife after birthing our second child in secret was stripped of her natural born magic by Odin and withered to dust before my eyes and the eyes of our two children. Again, I was punished. And again my children were taken from me. Are you seeing a pattern, Stark? _It is not one I wish to repeat!_ "

After that, Loki left Tony where he was and disappeared yet again. Though for good reason as it would seem.

He felt dizzy. His mind was sluggish as it tried to process all he'd been told.

 _Jesus._ Was it true?

If it was, it was horrible. Unthinkable.

And if Tony was honest with himself, it made a lot of things about Loki make _perfect_ sense. Especially if it was also true that Odin was starting to lose his mind. But Loki had weaved crazy narratives together before. Who was to say this wasn't a well constructed one for…

For what?

The Throne of Asgard? Tony was sure that would be Thor's argument. But based on personal experience, Thor wasn't exactly the most fore-thinking Asgardian Tony had ever met. Hell, it was like Thor and Loki grew up on opposite ends of the galaxy despite having the same parents. He knew from the stories that their brotherhood only existed because Odin took him from Jotunheim as a baby. Whether that was out of cruelty or kindness was anybody's guess.

When confronted with the accusations of Loki's existing children, Thor surprisingly and annoyingly was silent.

"Well," Tony prompted. "Is it true or isn't it?"

Thor sighed. "It is true. It is the shame of our family that we cannot speak of."

Shame? _Shame?_ Take a breath… don't break your hand trying to break Point-break's nose… "He has three kids," Tony asked to clarify. "Who grew up in cages without either of their parents?"

"Five were born," was the answer. "But four continue to live."

Tony stared, mouth agape in incredulity. " _How fucked up is that?!_ You understand how fucked up this is, don't you?"

"I do. And from what I know Loki is not without fault for any of their circumstances."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Convince me. Because right now your father's looking more like the real asshole every second."

Thor shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Sigyn was his first wife. He began relations with her when they were both before their maturities. She fell pregnant. They attempted to use magic to will the children away, but it only helped them grow. They married in secret to give the children legitimacy should their secret ever be found out. Because of Loki's blood, the children were never meant to be full Aesirs. His magic gave them gifts. Other forms. Vali and Nari were born as wolves."

"Wolves," Bruce asked, eyebrows up into his hairline.

"Perhaps with time they might have learned to control their gifts, but they were still infants when Odin found them all in their secret. Odin did not trust Loki to be able to control the children as they were still feral, so he took them away and caged them. For besmirching Lady Sigyn's honor and denying her family's approval of the union, Loki was punished in private. He was bound to a rock and made to accept a serpent's poisonous venom for a hundred years. Despite the restitution Odin offered to her and her family, Lady Sigyn never left Loki's side. She… tried to protect him from the venom. And from my understanding she died doing so."

"Jesus," Bruce muttered, eyes wide and mouth parted in shock.

"What about the kids," Tony asked.

"Loki was forbidden from seeing his children. They had taken to fighting and biting at each other. So rabid were they in their forms that Odin wanted to spare Loki the sight. In truth, Vali killed his younger brother and feasted on his flesh because…"

"Because what, Thor," Tony forced out.

"One of the guards was drunk," Thor said, woodenly. "He said the boys were never fed. Upon orders of the Allfather."

Bruce, who was looking really green around the edges stepped up to Thor. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me," he asked quiet and dangerous.

"Bruce, take a walk—"

"Tony," Bruce warned. "I don't want a walk."

"Then go downstairs if the big guy needs it because right now I need the full truth. What's it gonna be?" He hated to snap at Bruce like this, but he was sick and tired of being sick and tired and having all the answers would only benefit them both moving forward. "Do you need a minute?"

Bruce took a shaky breath and did some breathing exercises, avoiding looking at Thor. "I'm good," he said eventually and softly.

Once Tony was sure Bruce was fine, he motioned for Thor to continue. "So far that's two out of five. What happened to the others?"

"Jormungandr was cast into the Arctic sea of Midgard and remains chained to its cold and dark depths. Hela was confined to Helheim to serve the dead for an eternity. And Sleipnir remains in the royal stables, taken out only when the Allfather has need of his services for battle."

These were Loki's surviving children, the brothers and sister of the child growing inside of him. Prisoners. Servants. Tortured and punished simply because they were different. Tony felt so sick to his stomach that he had to sit down. It was almost too much to conceive. " _They're children…_ "

Thor sighed and crossed his arms. "They are _beasts_ , Stark—"

"Did they have a chance to be anything but that before Odin threw chains on them?"

"You do not know what they are capable of—"

"And I'd wager neither do you! Did they kill anybody?"

"Stark—"

" _Answer my question!_ Did they hurt or kill anyone?—Because here on Earth we don't throw babies or toddlers in jail because they're born different."

"Thor," Bruce interrupted, cutting through the argument softly. "Do you still consider Loki your brother?"

"Of course I do," the god of thunder growled.

"Then that makes these kids your nephews and niece," the scientist pointed out. "Have you considered _that_?"

If possible, the god looked even more uncomfortable. "It's complicated," he forced out.

"Why is it complicated," Tony pushed. "Because Odin says it has to be? You, Point-break, are your own god last I checked. So look me dead in the eye and tell me these children are dangerous and deserve what was done to them. Tell me they're not your family."

Thor did share a steady gaze with Tony at first, but eventually it wavered, and he looked away in guilt.

That answered that. But Tony wasn't about to leave the loose ends undone. "I would think long and hard about whose side you want to be on in this, because if it doesn't involve kids now then it's going to at some point. I had one fucked up childhood and if this is going to be what its going to be, then you damn well better believe that I'm not going to repeat my father's mistakes, or a single iota of _yours_. I don't like making people pick sides, but this time is a big fucking exception."

Bruce took a break down in the big guy's room for a few hours after that. Thor wandered about outside on the deck. And Tony polished off not one but two berry smoothies, which was a record for him. He'd been afraid to admit it, and definitely needed some more information when the god was a little less murderous, but after Loki had touched him Tony felt a bit better physically, stronger even. He still felt weak and tired and hungry, but the little improvement was like a single breath of fresh air after going so long without.

When Tony's curiosity got the best of him he found the god at the edge of Tony's bed a couple of hours later, with his head in his hands. He didn't look up when Tony entered the room. He didn't even look up when Tony sat beside him.

"Given all the time I've had to live with this kid inside me, abortion hasn't really been one of my first thoughts," Tony explained. "Just for the record."

Loki stayed silent.

"Forced captivity I am not a fan of," Tony said. "Been there, done that. But kids in forced captivity, SUPER NOT a fan of. Like, it pisses me off just thinking about it and makes me kinda want to punch Odin in the face with an arc reactor bomb. Or several. Repeatedly until his skull breaks."

"How ironic," Loki said deadly and quiet. "For that makes two of us."

"Seriously though…and as weird as this is to say… you and I are about to be parents, so… your kids are my kids, end of story. If there's any chance that this bun in the oven has brothers and sisters, like a family …I never had that. All I got was a shitty father and a mother who tried her fucking best. I always assumed I'd be a shitty father because I had no idea what a family really is or was, but… the past few years taught me that family is what you make of it—and that is the most cliché thing ever but it's fucking true. And in a few months this place is going to have one anyway, so what the hell?"

Loki looked at him in confusion.

"Let's find your kids, free them, and give them a real home."

Loki fixed Tony with a dangerous glare. "Do you have any idea the gravity of what you are proposing?"

"Yes and no," Tony admitted. "Yes because they're kids who need a home and their father, someone to love and support them instead of punish them for what they were born as. No, because I don't know the first thing about their powers or abilities or what it will be like to help them deal with hundreds of years of _everything_. But just because Odin's a paranoid crazy fuck doesn't mean your kids should suffer because of his raging dementia. It's not right and it needs to end."

"They are fated to bring about Ragnarok."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "You don't believe that."

"It matters not what I believe."

"Because that's what you've been fed for all these years-don't give me that bullshit. They're your kids. You want them back, don't you?"

To his credit, Loki didn't get angry or rage at Tony's jibes. Instead, he just looked incredibly sad. It made Tony regret lashing out at him, but he instinctively knew the god needed to hear it. "I have wanted that for centuries," the god whispered.

"Then put on your big boy pants and let's figure it out."

Loki snorted. "There are **reasons** I have not attempted this before… If this is not done properly… **He** will have them killed. _All_ of them."

"Listen, you know more about their prisons than I do. I'm going in blind, here. But I'm willing and ready to do it. We'll take every precaution. We'll fix this. Because they deserve it. And you do too."

Loki looked at him.

Tony shrugged. "I mean the alternative is keeping things a secret which given history didn't really work in the past, so… I say safety in numbers will work better. And not for nothing, but this time you've got about half the Avengers on your side…well, our side. Just think about it. For what it's worth… I'd be in on this whether all of what we did happened or not."

He left the trickster god to himself after that.

Tony had said his peace. He'd made his proposition to help. Loki had to accept for them to actually do anything about it, and as much as Tony wanted to barge into things and fix them now, he realized how out of his depth he was. Their respective stories aside, just the thought of those poor kids was giving him a raging headache. How could anyone do that to a child? It was unfathomable and un-fucking-forgivable to rip a child away from a parent only to promise a cage, indentured servitude, and/or chains. Just thinking about that as a possibility for his own child…

Huh.

His own child…

 _I guess we're actually doing this now._

That reality was going to take some getting used to.

Tony trudged down to his empty office (that he hadn't stepped foot in for the past couple of months) and sat heavily in the desk chair. There was a thin layer of dust over everything, but he couldn't find it in a single iota of his body to care. Then his pocket started to buzz. Tony pulled out his phone and his heart did a little bit of a jump when he saw it was Rhodey calling.

"Rhodes," Tony answered, trying not to sound as desperately hopeful as he felt.

"Hey, Tony," the man greeted, sounding apologetic. "Listen, man, I'm sorry for the radio silence, but…"

"No, I get it. It's… a lot."

"Yeah it is," the man chuckled. "Like right out of some sci-fi fantasy bullshit novel. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. No matter what. And I'm sorry that I wasn't there before this."

"Thanks Rhodey," Tony sighed. "I appreciate it."

"Tony, are you and Bruce **sure** about this? Like really sure?"

"Yeah, Loki kind of just confirmed it."

"Wait—hold up! _He's there?_ "

"Yeah," Tony admitted. "Thor broke him out of Asgard and brought him over this morning—"

"I'm coming over."

"What—"

"Don't argue with me about this. I'll see you in ten," the man promised, hanging up.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but he'd already heard the click of the line closing. He let out a groan of defeat and dropped his face in his hands, elbows resting on the dusty table. "This is my life… How is this my life, Jarvis?"

"Frankly, I don't know, sir," the A.I. dutifully responded. "But it would appear that Loki Odinson has emerged from your bedroom, and is currently heading towards the lab where Dr. Banner and Thor have congregated."

"Great… and, for now let's amend his name to Loki. No more of that Odinson bullshit. At least for now."

"Correction made, sir."

When Tony got down to the lab he was worried he'd find it decimated or covered in blood, but was happy to find it was neither. Loki and Thor were in a bit of a standoff with Bruce appearing to act as Switzerland between the two at a respectful distance.

"So, we doing this thing or not," Tony asked.

" _Brother_ ," Loki prompted.

"I will," was all Thor said, reluctantly of course, but he said it nonetheless.

It was progress for sure, and progress that Tony would make sure they kept pushing relentlessly on, but that alone made him feel hopeful.

For the first time in fucking forever.

And oddly enough, suddenly very dizzy—warm—weightless— _this was going to hurt_ —and then, blackness.


	10. Left behind

**A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for the delayed update this time. A close friend of mine (who I was supposed to write a show for and was also supposed to be in my wedding later this year) passed away very suddenly at the age of 33. Please be patient with me as I attempt to get back into a regular writing schedule and also respond to your comments. It's a shorter and more expositional chapter than usual, and not really part of the original plan as far as the plot, but important at least for me. Grieving fucking sucks. This chapter is for you, Steph. I fucking miss you.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TEN – Left behind**

The water was cool because it had to be.

It came down in a steady stream behind the glass enclosure of the Midgardian washroom.

A small yet controlled form of chaos, his body being the further division into even more, as was typical.

He lost track of time. How long he stood there. Under the spray.

He hadn't thought about them in years.

It still hurt.

Time dulled them in his memory, but would never succeed in taking them fully. This he knew. This he told himself many nights when he needed some sliver of comfort before attempting to sleep. This he also told himself when he woke from nightmares, from the memories of watching them wither and die.

Sigyn would have taken his head, laid it in her lap, and sang to him had she seen him still mourning thus.

Angrboda would have clapped him on the back of the head and enjoyed his subsequent surprise and likely offense.

They were polar opposites, his northern and southern stars at either end of the moral spectrum he subscribed and, if he were completely honest with himself, clung to out of desperation. Because it was in his mind where they now lived; the last bastion of existence before they would inevitably pass completely into the nothingness.

He was their caretaker. Their protector. Defender still.

He shouldered that weight for centuries without complaint, because of the guilt, because he hadn't been all of those things in the moments when it most mattered, because it was his fault they were dead.

He was still standing under the spray.

It made it easier to hide the tears.

If there were any still left to shed.

At a certain point grief changed from a waterfall to an empty cavern, continuing to widen and deepen as the years passed by. It created a void where all the missed opportunities and dreams of future milestones and events for memory-making would go. In that void, happiness was painful and sadness effervescent.

And yet, this was where memory persisted, where imagination was kind and generous, where life continued and their presence was semi-permanent, no matter the damage it continued to do to himself.

If Loki so desired it, he could rewrite history in this place inside of himself. But for all the lies he spoke and spun, to change anything about Sigyn or Angrboda was too much to bear, because even then he would begin to lose them, their unique selves. He would keep their truth intact, and would always.

" _My prince," the lady Sigyn said softly with a curtsy, and a gentle upturn of her rosy lips._

" _My lady," he said with his own bow after an embarrassing moment of distraction. He fumbled for what to offer after that delayed introduction, eventually settling on the first thing that came to mind. "What are you doing here?"_

 _Her face fell._

 _A tactless question, he admitted. He scrambled for a form of apology. "Do you not enjoy the festivities?"_

 _She recovered with grace, as he expected her to. "I care not for dancing, my prince."_

 _He hadn't expected her honesty, however. "Tis a tiresome pastime."_

" _And quite frivolous."_

" _Vain in some cases."_

 _The lady smiled, half turning away in what he guessed was shyness. Her golden hair was in a thick, but loose half-crown braid that circled about the back of her head. Her dress was a deep blue with fur trimmings. If he hadn't known she was lower nobility, he would have mistaken her for a princess. "My sisters can be relentless in their efforts with me. But I have gotten rather good at thwarting their attentions. Forgive me for intruding, my prince. I will leave you in peace."_

" _Why do you hide from them?"_

" _I am the oldest."_

" _Ah. And they have sweethearts of their own, I imagine?"_

" _They like to think they do."_

" _You have my most sincere apologies."_

 _The lady burst into laughter, quickly recovering to quiet herself in embarrassment at her outburst._

 _He reached out a hand. "Would you stay with me a while yet?"_

 _She hesitated, but not out of modesty. "Do you not normally prefer solitude?"_

" _Normally, yes. But tonight I would not mind an exception."_

Learning Sigyn's name had been part of their game at first. She would answer all questions truthfully (as would he) but divert that question alone for a later time with a smile. It wasn't until the fourth feast when they found each other up in the rafters again that he'd gotten her name, and the first taste of her sweet lips.

" _My name is Sigyn," she whispered, after pulling a breath's distance away. "But I think you knew that."_

" _Guilty," he whispered, before pulling her back to him._

Soap. Lather. Rinse. Everywhere.

Screams. To this day, after seeing her last moments filled with such pain and agony, he willingly tortured himself with endless questions of how and why someone could endure that kind of punishment for another. For him.

He should wash his hair. Or had he already? The bottle was still open.

Sigyn had been a balm. There had never been judgment with her. Always thoughtful kindness. Always generous comfort. Always _acceptance._

He would have nightmares tonight. He would need to plan accordingly so he wouldn't wake anyone else. Was all of this reality? Perhaps he was in another nightmare and hadn't woken from it yet.

The soap stung when it dripped into his eyes.

Pain.

That had been his distraction after she'd died.

That had been what grounded him after he gave in to the chaos surrounding him.

After he'd willingly gotten lost and damned his own consequences by vowing to quit Asgard forever.

He'd been a coward, then. Young, idiotic, and weak. Stripped bare by the pain of loss.

But he deserved every ounce of it.

" _You're someone's royalty," the forest witch said with a smirk, the pale light of winter catching the rich green of her eyes. "I can smell it on you."_

" _Not by choice, I promise you," Loki replied, carefully, with the blade of the sharp spear at his throat._

 _She assessed his answer, head tilting in consideration. The hair on the left side of her head had been shaved, combed over to the right. On the skin laid bare there were tattoos. Runes he couldn't immediately decipher. "What's your name, little prince?"_

 _He could lie. Protect himself. But what was the point? "Loki, of Asgard."_

 _She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're Odin's?"_

" _I would say I hate to repeat myself—"_

 _The witch pressed the spear against his throat in warning._

" _Not by choice," he repeated._

" _Ah. I see," she said, taking the spear away and standing back to let him rise to his feet. "You're the tribute child he took from Jotunheim."_

" _That is the story he likes to tell," Loki replied with bite. "Whether it is true is another matter."_

 _The witch studied him with amused eyes before turning her back and proceeding into the forest. "Come along then."_

 _Loki didn't at first, which forced the witch to stop and turn around to face him again._

" _Do you intend to be eaten by the beasts? I am offering you shelter."_

" _I understood that," Loki replied, rubbing his throat and feeling a little irritated, like a child about to have a tantrum.._

" _Then what did you not understand?"_

" _Why."_

" _Because contrary to Odin's lies, of which it seems you are more than familiar, the witch of the ironwood is not without a heart. You hurt. The cause may be your business, but the hurt itself is now mine. Come, little prince. I have tea brewing. You will like it."_

Only when they had sat down at Angrboda's hearth to drink had she given him her name, and eventually her body. Even after he'd told her of Sigyn and his sons… son… she took him into her again and again without apology or acknowledgement. He'd admitted with shame later that he found solace in the witch, and that the nightmares of Sigyn's death began to relent. For a time he was even able to forget he had a child still.

Until Angrboda predictably fell pregnant, despite their efforts.

The days that followed that revelation had been difficult.

He even returned to Asgard for a time. He told himself it was for Frigga. Foolishly tried to plot a way on his own to steal his son back and raise a family away from Asgard instead of secretly within it. Running and hiding turned his stomach, but continuing to leave Sigyn's last child without a parent, chained and alone, turned it even more. He told himself that for three months before admitting his own inadequacy, his own fear, when the opportunity for failure was so high, and the consequences so dire.

" _We will not give up on him," Angrboda promised, cradling the side of his face with her callused hand. "Your heart and mine will not allow it. A piece of you is missing yet and we need you whole, my love. Once you are, when this family is complete, nothing can break you ever again. This I promise you."_

The water stopped. Drips persisted. The silence that followed was full.

The smell and sight of flesh turning to ash ripped an animalistic rage and pain from somewhere deep inside of him. There was nothing to hear, for his ears had gone silent with her last gasp of breath the moment she withered and died by Odin's sentence. Another to add to his list.

His heart broke when Sigyn died.

His soul shattered when Angrboda was murdered.

In front of their children.

He broke free and fought with every ounce of rage he could, but it was stained with his grief, which made him weak, made him lose, and nearly lose his life. Odin had him imprisoned for a century after that. His first taste of madness came to him then. Over and over again he witnessed the high violation as the last bit of the witch's magic was separated from her soul.

Loki felt it.

When it happened.

He didn't think of the children for decades. And when he did, he wept for just as long. He raged against the cell, the guards, and even Frigga when she eventually found him. She probably thought him mad, believed the lies Odin told her because he did not see her again for a long time after that. In hindsight he was thankful for that small mercy. Because after he'd been moved to a more fortified cell, and stronger magical chains placed upon him, he'd gone completely silent and immobile.

It was when he refused food and water that Odin came to him, spitting fire and fury when Loki refused to acknowledge his presence.

His lips were sewn shut in further punishment.

And so he'd begun to waste away.

Time was of no consequence.

Because here he could forget with ease.

When remembering hurt.

Perhaps it was the masochistic part of himself.

But in that darkness they were both there, on either side of him, keeping him a hair's breath away from the edge of the true abyss.

They whispered names.

Fenrir.

Jormungandr.

Hela.

Sleipnir.

His children.

Their children.

And now there would be another.

Loki took a deep breath, and stepped forth from behind the wet glass wall.

He took the towel, ignored the softness, dried his body, dried his hair, and dressed in the same clothes as before.

Was he different? He felt no different. Because it was more of the same, despite the fact that everything was continuing to change around him without mercy.

As time went on he learned to channel his rage properly, how to lie better, how to survive one moment at a time when all he wanted to do was give in to the empty cavern within.

He'd seen a glimpse of that familiar depression in Stark that night. Recognized it, felt a moment of irrational fear, and then given himself over to be the comforting one out of …need (but whether for himself or for Stark he could no longer tell). It almost felt like Loki was returning the favor he'd been given all those centuries ago in the Ironwood, and all the centuries past that in a little house at the edge of Asgard's spice market.

Loki paused in the hallway before the inevitable descent down to the laboratory where the others were ensconced, waiting for Stark to wake.

Grief held no candle to any of the tortures Loki endured within his lifetime, because it didn't have to. Grief would always be the ultimate weapon with no match or equal in any part of this universe or the next. Grief was a ceaseless fucking bitch.

Along with his rage, Loki learned to see through the fallacies of others. Perhaps it should have been frightening, to see through another with such ease, but that also came with the duties of being a god, of being hard to kill, of having the _blessing_ of near-immortality. Countless hours had been spent bargaining to the air around him. He'd give it all up just to have either of them back for a single moment, to be able to embrace them, apologize, tell them he loved them…

Loki unclenched his fists and examined both palms.

He could see both their hands perfectly, to take his into their own.

But he was alone.

So… he took a breath, closed his eyes, and sighed.

Put on the familiar mask.

Step into the room.

Wear the indifference like a shroud.

No one would know different because they would never care to look beyond the surface.

It took him a few centuries to perfect, but at this point if anyone was going to see him for all his vulnerabilities and emotional nakedness, they would either have to kill him or Loki would have to be driven to the final stages of insanity.

And given his track record he wasn't that far off the mark.


End file.
